


Cecilia de Verde: An Ernesto "No-Murder AU" Love Story

by im_fairly_witty



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: F/M, no-murder AU, rom com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-02-15 19:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_fairly_witty/pseuds/im_fairly_witty
Summary: The death of Ernesto’s father cuts short Ernesto and Hector's doomed music tour before anyone gets poisoned, making them both return to Santa Cecilia so that Ernesto can care for his mother and rethink his life’s trajectory. Ernesto meets a sweet but sassy girl with a green hair ribbon who seems to be able to see right through his ego, and now he can't get her out of his head. Hector and Imelda aren't convinced at his show of indifference and deftly assume the role of the conniving married friends. But even if Ernesto were in love with her (which he's totally not) he's not sure someone as sweet as her could ever really love someone who feels as damaged inside as he does.This story has the same headcanon history I’ve built for Ernesto in For Whom The Bell Tolls, but can be read independently.





	1. Verde

It had been two months since Ernesto’s entire life plan had been completely smashed to pieces.

He sighed as he swung himself down off his horse, his boots hitting the dusty old cobblestones of the dusty old plaza of dusty old Santa Cecilia.

He looped the reins over Dante’s grey head and securely tied them to the plaza hitching post. At least when his father had died two months earlier his shady “friends” hadn’t made off with the family horse before Ernesto returned home. All his father’s prized fighting dogs and massive stash of alcohol, yes, but Ernesto would have gotten rid those the moment he returned anyway. 

He patted the horse’s neck before turning to stroll into the plaza, weaving through the loose market-day crowd. He pasted on a relaxed smile as he nodded and waved to the all-too-familiar faces around him, passing the mats lining the street that were spread with all sorts of colorful foods and goods. The late October morning was cool for now, but everyone was already staking out areas that would be shaded when the hot Mexican sun came out in full force in a few hours.

As he neared the pavilion in the middle of the square he saw a lone teenager was already sitting inside, plucking away at an old guitar. Ernesto stifled a grimace upon recognizing the half-strangled tune of “Un Poco Loco,” but at least it meant this next part was going to be easy.

“Hola muchacho!” Ernesto smiled widely as he ascended the cement steps of the pavilion, making sure the guitar slung on his back didn’t smack the green metal railings on either side.

The teen looked up, jolting out of his song with a twang of guitar strings when he saw Ernesto.

“Señor Santiago!” He said, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “H-Hola! I was just playing one of your songs, I really like your music.”

Ernesto and Hector had only barely started getting traction when they were abruptly called home for the funeral, but Santa Cecilia was backward enough to still think they were famous anyways. It was a useful card to play around town, even if it chafed at Ernesto every time he used it to think how far they _hadn’t_ gone.

“Muchas gracias, it’s always nice to meet a fan.” Ernesto said pleasantly, not allowing himself to show how nettled he was to be called by his father’s name. “And please, I go by De la Cruz.”

“Oh, of course! Señor De La Cruz.” The boy said.

He was still sitting on the floor of the pavillion. Alright. Time to be more obvious then.

Ernesto pulled his guitar strap so that the instrument swung up in front of him, letting the boy see its polished surface. It was a much more expensive instrument than his dinged one. A real, professional guitar.

“Would you mind if I took it from here?” Ernesto asked, walking into the gazebo and pulling the guitar’s strap off before the boy could respond.

“Oh, uh, sure.” The teen scrambled up with his own scuffed guitar as Ernesto walked in. “Do you usually play here?”

“Every time I come to the plaza.” Ernesto said brightly, pulling a pick from his pocket and setting about tuning the instrument. “And keep practicing your guitar, you’ve got potential, amigo.”

“Thank you Señor!” The teenager said, his face brightening as he backed out of the gazebo. He waved as he walked away, having conveniently forgotten that he’d just been kicked out in the glow of having been complimented.

Ernesto sighed as soon as he was gone, his smile dropping away. Most of the other “musicians” in town had gotten the message that the gazebo was Ernesto’s, but he still had to enforce it every now and then. It was ridiculous, you left town for a few months and everything slid into chaos.

He leaned against the green metalwork railing and began picking out a tune, starting off with one of Hector’s early wordless melodies to warm up. Escaping to the plaza to play had become his escape whenever he needed to catch his breath. Settling his father’s affairs was unpleasant work, unearthing memories Ernesto had buried two years ago when he’d been forcefully thrown out of the house.  

He’d moved on, had launched into his plan of becoming a new man with a vengeance, never expecting to return home, in this life or the next. And yet, here he was.

The feeling of doom that had always hung over his childhood home had mostly dissipated now that it was just Ernesto and his mother living there, but he’d found that the urge to escape it was still deeply ingrained in him.

The plaza gazebo was the perfect escape too, it had plenty of room to clear his head, but also still had a crowd around to appreciate his music. Even if it was a thin and uncultured one.  

He continued to play, warming up to a more energetic arraignment. He smiled and nodded to the townspeople that paused to listen, close enough to see him, but still walled back by the metalwork of the gazebo.

Playing during market days was also a good reminder to the whole town that their two musical sons were back and ready to be hired for whatever quinceanera or birthday or other musical need they had. Ernesto played the guitar for free in the market, he was _not_ a desperate busker, but everyone knew that if they wanted to hear his voice they could hire him and Hector anytime.

Ernesto looked up to watch the colorful chatting crowds beyond the bars, but was surprised to see someone had come up the steps, leaning against the archway instead of keeping the usual distance. He didn’t recognize her, which was odd since she looked only a little younger than him, and she was resting a bolt of cloth on her hip. He couldn’t help noticing that her white and green dress somehow matched her soft smile.

Ernesto smiled back and kept playing, assuming she’d turn and leave soon like the others. But she stayed, all the way until the end of his song.

“That was nice.” She said, pulling a coin from her pocket.

“Gracias Senorita,” Ernesto tipped up his guitar to rest from playing for a minute, “but you can keep your coin, I don’t accept money for street playing, just events.”

“But, you’re a musician.” She said, her smile looking puzzled. “Don’t you have to eat?”

Ernesto bristled just a bit, but kept it from showing. Just because he was a performer didn’t mean he was desperate for every spare peso a passerby could stoop to bestow on him. Hector may have a family to support, but Ernesto had plenty saved from their tour to tide him over. He wasn’t a teenager playing on the street corner, he was a professional.

“This music is my gift to the community,” he said, grandly sweeping an arm to gesture at the square around him. “I give it to them freely. Besides, I have to play. The music isn’t just in me, it is me.”

That usually got a good reaction, but she just cocked an eyebrow.

“That’s one of the most ridiculously showy things I’ve ever hear someone say.” She sounded like she was stifling a chuckle as her smile widened.

Ernesto frowned, feeling wounded. He quite liked that line, he’d spent a lot of time coming up with it. And who was this girl anyway? It wasn’t often that there was someone in this small town that he didn't at least vaguely recognize.

“Well it’s true,” he said, “My music partner and I are successful professionals, we can afford to give back to the people.”

That was stretching the truth just a bit, but this was an emergency.

Then her eyes widened in realization, “Oh! I think I understand, you must be Ernesto!”

Ernesto smiled. Good, he was back in his comfort zone if she knew his reputation.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” She said, her smile looked knowing and amused.

Or not.

“Oh? And what have you heard?” Ernesto said, taking the bait she was obviously offering. He unconsciously propped up his guitar in his lap again, like a shield.

She laughed at him, not unkindly. “That you have an ego bigger than this whole town.” She replied, struggling to control her grin.

“Well, it’s not that big of a town.” Ernesto said without thinking.

It wasn’t helping that her smile was as sweet as piloncillo, which somehow made her barbs more painful. Why didn’t she take him seriously like everyone else? And who had been talking about him having an ego anyway? He wasn’t proud, he was just unusually talented and handsome, everyone knew that.

“Well, it’s bigger than the last place I lived.” She hitched her bolt of cloth higher up on her hip. “Good luck with your coinless music, músico.”

Ernesto was still scrambling for a good comeback as she turned and lightly descended the cement pavilion steps. He only had time to see the glossy green ribbon woven into her braided hair before she walked behind a fruit merchant stall and disappeared from sight.

Before quite realizing it, he was standing, clutching his guitar and looking at where she’d gone.

 _And good luck with your small town sensibilities, small town girl._ That’s what he should have said, that would have shown her who the real wit was.

He idly tugged at the lock of hair that always curled on his forehead, the fingers on his other hand tapping the guitar’s neck as he thought.

No, that was a dumb comeback. He could do better than that.

He sat back down on the cement, his body pretending he was going to start playing again. Good luck with your, your bolt of cloth? Your green hair ribbon? He really didn’t have much to work with. Not that it mattered. What did he care if one pretty stranger didn’t believe he was amazing? Her opinion didn’t control his life, he didn’t need her approval.

Several minutes passed before he realized his hand was still suspended over the guitar strings, not having played a single note.

He grunted irritably and stood. Alright, fine, so his focus was wrecked, that didn’t mean anything. He was still his own man with his own confidence. He just needed some closure, and to be prepared if such an attack ever happened again. Señorita Verde ribbon wasn’t from around here, but Santa Cecilia wasn’t much of a place for short stays. She might come back to the plaza another day, and if she did, he would be ready.

He slung his guitar strap back over his head and walked to where Dante was hitched up. If it as a witty comeback he was looking for, there was a certain gold-toothed music partner of his that he knew he could rely on for help.  


	2. The Name of the Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the married friends are characteristically unhelpful.

“And then she said, “good luck with your coinless music, músico” and walked off. Just like that.” Ernesto said, backhanding the air in front of him for emphasis.

“Like that!” Coco exclaimed from where she was sitting on his knee, throwing out both of her tiny arms in excitement.

“Exactly mija.” Ernesto said, using his free hand to make sure she didn’t fall off. “She was completely loca.”

“Wow Ernesto, that sounds like it must have been really hard for you.” Hector said, obviously trying to stifle a grin, a task made even more difficult by the tiny shoemaking nails he held between his lips.

All three of them were sitting in the new shoe workshop the Riveras had set up in a empty room of the family compound, an ambitious project Imelda had roped her twin brothers into during their last music tour to bring in another source of income for the family.

“Loca!” Coco shrieked.

She giggled in excitement as she tried to launch herself into the air, but Ernesto caught her.

“You’re the one that’s loca.” Ernesto said, smiling despite his tragic tale.

Coco had been the greatest surprise of their return to Santa Cecilia. When they’d begun traveling a couple years ago, Hector’s baby girl had been just that, a baby. Fussy and incomprehensible, endlessly needy and unable to do much more than scream. She had cemented Ernesto’s dislike for infants every time he grudgingly agreed to hold her.

But when they’d come back for the funeral, some kind of miracle seemed to have taken place. Now Coco was suddenly a spunky little three-year-old, a feisty little person of her own with big opinions, crazy spur of the moment made-up stories, and fascinatingly boundless energy. Most importantly, she could actually tell you what she wanted instead of just screaming. Most of the time.    

“Anyway,” Ernesto said, talking over Coco’s continued shouting, “you’re the one who’s good with words Hector, what’s something good I can say to get back at her?”

Ernesto looked down at the still bouncing Coco. Her antics were officially started to get out of hand. He glanced at Hector, who was intently focused on the piece of leather he was wrestling around a mold at the workbench. With the coast clear, Ernesto surreptitiously slipped a piece of candy out of his pocket.

Coco’s eyes went wide and she clammed up immediately. She knew her Mamá didn’t like it when Tio Ernesto snuck her treats, making her an excellently cooperative partner in crime whenever he needed to bribe her.

“Imelda doesn’t like you giving her all that sugar, amigo.” Hector said without looking up from the half shoe he was mangling. “You should train your little sobrina to calm down at a less suspicious speed, it always sounds like you’ve made her vanish when you do that.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Ernesto said, unwrapping the candy and giving it to Coco, who was practically vibrating with excitement.

He really couldn’t say what kind of dark magic the little girl had wound around him, but it was fearfully effective. Would he ever have fallen under her spell like this if they hadn’t been called home by his father’s death? Losing his father had completely turned his life upside down, but at least his newly discovered niece was another small bit of unexpected music he could escape to. Nothing was ever dark for Coco, just being around her was to enter her own little world where she was the queen, which was a world better than the one he lived in.

“So your Señorita with the green ribbon, she seems to have gotten under your skin, eh?”  Hector sat back and examined the shoe-making tool he was using for a moment, then tiredly dropped it on the table. “I swear Oscar and Felipe have explained this step to me a thousand times.” He muttered.

“Oh, but Hector, that’s a beautiful...” Ernesto paused, trying to think of a punchline, but Hector’s failed creation really didn’t resemble anything at all.

“A dead rat?” Coco suggested seriously, looking up at him.

Ernesto tried to stifle his chuckle, but failed, making her laugh too.

“You are a terrible influence on my daughter.” Hector stood and walked the failed shoe over to a bin of leather scraps. “I should have you thrown out for disrespecting the sacred craft of shoemaking.”

Ernesto wiped a tear from his eye, “I don’t think I’m the one that’s disrespecting shoemaking, amigo. You’ve been at this two months now and I think Coco could make a better shoe than you.”

“I can make shoes!” Coco cried, slipping down to the floor, “Want to see?”

“Wait, really?” Ernesto asked as she ran out of the room.

“Well, not by herself,” Hector said, “she’s pieced together a couple small leather things with the twin’s help. She’s been watching Imelda and the boys do this for a lot longer than me.” Hector rubbed his forehead, fatigue and pride warring on his face.

“You’re not cut out to be a shoemaker, amigo.” Ernesto said.

“Ah, but I am cut out to be a father.” Hector rubbed his wrist as he gazed fondly after Coco. “It’s been so nice to be back Ernesto, even with having to learn shoes, it’s worth it to be with my two diosas again.”

Ernesto turned his chair around so he could rest his folded arms on the back of it, using the action as an excuse to hold back everything he wanted to say at that moment.

He’d thought Hector seemed oddly relieved when they’d been summoned back home, but he’d had no idea just how relieved until he’d seen the roots Hector was desperately trying to put down in a profession he didn’t even like. As if trying to anchor himself to Santa Cecilia as quickly as possible before something ripped him up again.

It made Ernesto a little uneasy to think how intense he must have gotten while they were on tour, Hector wasn’t one to complain until he reached his breaking point, meaning it was sometimes hard for Ernesto to gauge just how far he was pushing him. They’d started having regular disagreements by the time they reached Mexico City, but they were all a blur of anger when Ernesto tried to look back on them.

Ernesto looked up as Coco came back into the room, eager for the change of subject. Having two months to cool off had given Ernesto some badly needed perspective, to see what kind of anger it was he’d had towards Hector. It sent a rickety shiver down his spine to think how eerily similar it was to the anger he remembered having directed at him by his own father.

It was a disturbing thought that he hadn’t quite pulled apart for himself yet, but it probably wasn’t that important, not right at this moment anyway.

“Tio Nesto! Look!” Coco handed him something that looked like a leather butterfly made of scraps, unmistakably one of the twin’s oddball ideas.

“Wow chiquita, it’s you!” He said, throwing himself out of his dark thoughts and into Coco’s distracting world with enough desperation that he could feel it. “A beautiful butterfly.”

“I’m _not_ a butterfly, Tio Nesto.” Coco said, taking great relish in correcting him as she pulled on her own little braids and danced in place. And she would be a dancer, it was already easy to see that with all her energy.

The little girl looked to the doorway and her face brightened, “Mamá!”

Ernesto watched as Coco ran to Imelda as she walked in the room, seizing her mother’s skirts and jumping up and down with delight.

“Ernesto.” Imelda frowned at him as she struggled to set her basket of market vegetables on a workbench with Coco jumping around her. “You gave her sugar again.”

“Mi Amor.” Hector scooped up Coco with one arm and wrapping his other around his wife’s waist. “How was your trip?”

“I was only at the market.” Imelda said, but she smiled and kissed him.

Ernesto glanced away, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes, but Coco squealed in disgust for the both of them. Honestly, those two were the biggest mystery Ernesto had ever seen. As Hector’s elder by four years, Ernesto had always tried to push him in the right direction, but preventing him from falling in love with Imelda had been the most baffling failure of his life.

He’d assumed it was doomed from the start, what with Imelda being made all of sharp edges and Hector without a single edge at all. But somehow they’d convinced each other they were worth giving up everything for anyway, and here they were, years later with a loving marriage and a child. He would never understand how.    

“And what have you three been up to?” Imelda asked, pulling away and taking Coco from Hector. “Ernesto, I didn’t see you in the square this morning.”

“Papá made a dead rat!” Coco said gleefully.

“He did what?” Imelda asked.

“Ernesto met a girl at the plaza this morning.” Hector said a little too eagerly in his desperation to change the topic. “He came to get courting advice from me.”

“Oh?” Imelda said, looking at Ernesto with amused interest.

“What? No.” Ernesto said, frowning. Hector was going too far with this one. “I was seeing if Hector could help me with a good comeback. There was a girl I’ve never met before at the market today who came up and made fun of me.”

“Oh did she?” Imelda looked even more pleased at this.

“Stop smiling, both of you.” Ernesto said, grimacing, “This is serious.”

“Oh, of course amigo.” Hector said, sitting on one of the work tables. “Could you describe her again for Imelda? She’s good at these things too.”

Ernesto squinted suspiciously at the two for a moment, but Hector was right, Imelda knew how to make a great cutting remark when she wanted. So he repeated his story, being very careful this time to leaving out anything that could be construed as flattering, like the girl’s smile.

“A bolt of cloth?” Imelda said, latching onto the detail, “Was she a seamstress?”

“I didn’t ask.” Ernesto said. Her dress had been very tastefully made though, so maybe.

“I’ll bet you anything that was Ceci.” Imelda said, turning to Hector with a grin.

Hector’s eyes widened and he broke out into a delighted laugh.

“What is it? Who’s Ceci?” Ernesto asked, irritated to be left out of the joke.

“Oh Imelda, can you imagine?” Hector said, gasping for breath. “Ernesto and Ceci?”

“You know...” Imelda looked at Ernesto, like he was a bolt of leather she was sizing up for a new pair of shoes. “I think I can.”

“Really you two? This is not why I came.” Ernesto stood, trying to look as stoic as possible under the circumstances.

“No, Ernesto, sit down,” Hector said, recovering himself. “Ceci’s an old friend of Imelda’s, they grew up together. She’s just moved into town recently to help her sister. She’s a very sweet and intelligent girl Ernesto, you’d be lucky to catch her.”

“I’m _not_ trying to catch her.” Ernesto protested, “And she wasn’t sweet at all this morning.”

“She just knows how to push back against people whose heads are too big for their shoulders.” Imelda cocked an eyebrow, “But I suppose that’s not something you’re used to seeing in women is it?”

“Alright, you know what?” Ernesto picked up his jacket from a nearby table and swung it on. “I’ve just remembered some urgent guitar tuning I need to do at home. Alone. Where no one is mocking me.”

“You should try talking to her again.” Hector said, following him to the doorway, “I think you would really like her. I mean, it’s about time you at least tried settling down anyway, hermano, you’re not getting any younger.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Hector.” Ernesto waved him away as he walked out into the courtyard. “Don’t forget we’re playing for Señor Rodríguez’s fiesta tomorrow evening.”

Imelda said something from inside that Ernesto didn’t catch, but Hector called after him.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Hector said, “would you be able to watch Coco for the evening this Friday? Imelda and I are going out and we haven’t found someone to watch her.”

“As long as you haven’t taught her to play matchmaker too in the meantime.” Ernesto said, reaching Dante, grabbing the reins, and pulling himself into the saddle.

“Muchas gracias!” Hector called, “See you tomorrow!”

“Try not to kill any more rats.” Ernesto called back, turning Dante to the gate and prodding him forward.

Ernesto shook his head as he rode away from Hector’s place.

They both knew that Ernesto wasn’t the marrying type, he didn’t have time for that kind of distraction. Sure, Hector might be satisfied with being pinned down, chained to a family he had to support, but not Ernesto. Ernesto was above all that. He needed to be free, to accomplish his dreams of fame, he wouldn’t be tied down by anything.

He watched the trees alongside the road drift by as Dante trotted.

Ceci.

He wondered if maybe it was short for Cecilia.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between the first two chapters! I've been getting all the outlining done as well as keeping my head above water for finals week. Updates will be more steady from here on out, a new chapter every other day, maybe even every day if I can get ahead. :)  
> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> \- Wit


	3. Trapped

Ceci was everywhere.

Ernesto had been ready to forget about her, dismiss her from his mind forever, leave Hector’s bad joke behind and move on. But when he glimpsed her from afar in the market the next morning, just for a minute, his focus was as broken as if she’d come up and talked to him all over again.

He almost wished that she had approached him, at least then he might be able to justify how much space she was taking up in his head. Ernesto had been forced to leave the square early again that day, unable to play with her on his mind. He hadn’t mentioned it to Hector that night when they’d played at the fiesta, but even as they played he’d caught himself idly wondering if Ceci had somehow been invited and he would see her in the crowd.

Which of course she hadn’t, and he didn’t, and eventually over the course of the evening, he’d gotten back to normal with the help of Hector’s musical energy beside him.  

But then he saw her again the next morning.

And the next.

By the time Friday finally came, Ernesto was about ready to smash his guitar in frustration. He hadn’t even bothered bringing it to the plaza with him that morning, instead walking around the market to chat up the townspeople. What did they think of the weather? The crops? Their upcoming Dia de los Muertos plans?

Had they seen that seamstress girl who was new in town?

Which was not weird.

It was gathering intelligence on the enemy.

And he had discovered several new things about her over the course of the morning too. Her full name was Cecilia Rodriguez. Her sister lived in town. The little boy that was often tagging along with her was her nephew. She was a top-notch seamstress already building a reputation for herself in town. She was always smiling. She hadn’t kicked away a stray dog someone had seen barking at her. And she had purchased quite a lot of oranges last Tuesday.  

Totally normal things to know about someone. Completely ordinary. Besides, it felt a lot more productive than moping over his guitar for the rest of the day.

He was still feeling satisfaction over his successful reconnaissance later that evening as he tied up Dante at the Rivera’s compound. If someone had told him even three months earlier that he’d look forward to spending the evening taking care of a three-year-old, he’d have laughed them out of the room. Tonight, however, spending a few hours in Coco’s care-free world of spirited imagination sounded like exactly what he needed to take his mind off...uh, his troubles.

Ernesto ducked into the cheerily lit home and saw that Hector was singing as he set food in front of Coco at the table. The fading scent of fresh bread hung in the air and Coco was singing along with her father as best she could.

“Ernesto! Thank you again for coming tonight,” Hector said, pausing his song and looking up. He was wearing the casual purple jacket he always wore when he wanted to look presentable without donning his performing outfit. “There's more food in the kitchen if you havn't eaten yet. Imelda and I are just going to get away for a few hours, go get something to eat on our own for a bit.”

“It’s no trouble, as long as you two come back before sunrise this time.” Ernesto said, pulling off his own jacket and sitting at the table.

“That was only one time.” Hector grinned at the memory. “There were...extenuating circumstances.”

“I'm sure.” Ernesto snuck a piece of cut-up tamale off Coco’s plate. She gasped and tried to slap away his hand, but he was too quick for her.

“Imelda!” Hector called into the house. “Are you ready?”

“Just about!” Imelda’s voice came from the courtyard, not the back room. “Thank you again so much for coming.”

“Of course-.” Ernesto started, but stopped when he saw Imelda wasn’t talking to him, but the other woman she walked into the house with.

“Ceci?” Hector said, gasping, “What are you doing here?”

“Hola Hector, Imelda asked me to watch Coco tonight and I...” Ceci trailed off when she saw Ernesto sitting at the table.

Ernesto stared back. Then hastily stood, painfully whacking his hip on the edge of the table. Should he say something? Glare at her? Ignore her and try to act casual?

“But Imelda, Ernesto already agreed to watch Coco tonight!” Hector said, his voice just a little too worried, the folding of his arms a little too obviously indignant.

“Oh my, I completely forgot!” Imelda said, smacking her forehead dramatically. “And now we’ve brought both of them here at the same time. How stupid of us.”

“Well, they’re both intelligent, I’m sure they’ll figure something out.” Hector hooked an arm around Imelda’s and pulled her towards the door with a badly hidden grin. “Good luck you two, the guitar’s in the bedroom if you need it!”

“Hector!” Ernesto managed to choke out, but the two conniving busy-bodies were already out the door, disappearing into the night.

Ceci walked to the window, the edge of her mouth quirking into a smile. “Neither of them are very subtle, are they?” 

Ernesto's eyes darted to his coat. He had to get out. Judging by the last few mornings, he might never be able to concentrate again if he spent an entire evening around this woman. He would just leave now, defeating Hector and Imelda’s plot before it had the chance to trap him.

“You can go home if you like,” Ceci continued, turning away from him and walking into the small kitchen. “I’ll take care of Coco, your help isn’t needed tonight.”

He paused as he was reaching for his jacket.

Now wait just a minute. He looked towards the kitchen.

Who was she to automatically assume that _he_ would be the one to leave?

“I was here first.” Ernesto said.

He cringed an instant later as he realized how childish that sounded. “I mean, I’m sorry that you came all this way, but Coco and I have everything under control. You can go home.”

“Oh don’t worry about me,” Ceci called from the kitchen. “I’ve been looking forward to spending time with Coco for days. I’m sure you’d rather be doing something else with your evening.”

Ernesto looked to were Coco was watching him from the table.

“Are you leaving already?” She asked through a mouth full of tamale, her eyes getting big and sad.

Ernesto hesitated, but then squared his shoulders.

“Not if I can help it, mija.” He said.

Ernesto picked up his jacket and hung it on a peg at the door, pulling off his boots too for good measure. He was the Tio here, he had the right to stay if he wanted to, and he wanted to.

Ceci came back into the room, peeling a tangerine and setting the slices in front of Coco. She raised an eyebrow, looking at his boots and jacket.

“I’m staying.” Ernesto said.

For some reason this was starting to remind him of the time he’d gotten his feet stuck in a mire, eventually losing both shoes as he struggled.

Ceci put a hand on her hip, “Don’t think you’re getting me to leave just because you hung up your coat, músico.”

“Well, don’t think that you’re getting me to leave just because...you...peeled an orange.”

Ernesto felt a little like throwing himself head-first off a cliff after that jewel of a response.

“Well I have Tia privileges, I’ve been friends with Imelda since we were born.” Ceci popped the last piece of tangerine into her mouth and folded her arms.

“Well I’ve been friends with Hector since he was born,” Ernesto said, warming up to the argument as he defiantly took his seat at the table again. “and that’s longer than you’ve even been alive.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be out playing coinless music somewhere?” Ceci asked, not missing a beat.

“Coco’s all the audience I need.” He shot back.

Ceci took a seat across from him, like they were about to engage in a high-stakes game of cards.

“Are you both staying?” Coco asked, her eyes wide with excitement as she looked back and forth between them.

Ernesto narrowed his eyes at Ceci, who squinted right back at him.

This was going to be an interesting evening.


	4. An Interesting Evening

There were no casualties in the time it took for everyone to eat dinner.

Ernesto had decided that staying aloof was his best strategy and was trying his hardest to keep a professional face. After all, he was a performer by trade and twenty-five years old besides, he could keep it together for a few hours for an audience of one.

“So, is Ceci short for anything?” He asked as she was clearing the dishes from the table, attempting a foray into conversation.

“If you’re wanting to make a joke about Cecilia living in Santa Cecilia,” Ceci said cooly, picking up his plate. “I can assure you that you’ve been beaten to it.”

“Of course not.” Ernesto laughed. Thank goodness she’d cut him off before he’d gotten to that very punchline. “You have a very sharp wit Señorita.”

She smiled wryly as she walked into the kitchen. “I grew up with three older brothers,” she called back, “I’m afraid it’s a reflex.”

Coco stood on her chair and pleadingly reached her arms out to Ernesto. He got up and lifted her as she jumped off her chair, making it seem like she was flying for a moment before setting her safely, and giggling, down on the floor.

“I guess having three older brothers would do that to a person.” Ernesto said, walking to lean against the kitchen doorway. “Have I ever met any of them? They would be Rodriguez’s yes?”  

“I doubt it.” Ceci pushed up her sleeves and began rinsing the dishes in a bucket of water. “They were all killed in the revolution years ago along with my father.”

Ernesto bit the inside of his lip, but she didn’t seem bothered, carrying on washing the dishes.

He and Hector had been young enough to escape enlistment, but only barely. He had vivid memories of his mother frantically shooing him into the trees behind his home or even being hiding him behind sacks of flour whenever militia posses rode through town looking for recruits. He and Hector had spent many tense afternoons quietly roaming the hills above town, staying out of sight of anyone that might pull them up onto their horse and ride away with them. He knew several older boys that had disappeared forever that way.

“I’m sorry.” He said, and he meant it.

“Life is life.” Ceci shrugged as she began drying the dishes. “That’s why I came here to live with my sister after my Abuelita passed away, to be near family. There’s more work for me here anyway, more people means more clothes for me to mend.”

Ernesto didn’t quite know what to say. She was setting the clean dishes aside as she dried them one by one, so he walked in and started setting them up on their shelves.

“Gracias.” She said, glancing over.

Ernesto shrugged in response. It was just some dishes.

“So how about you?” she asked, “Imelda says you grew up here with Hector?”

“Si, but the last few years Hector and I have been mostly traveling with our music. I don’t come back very often.” He said, taking the last dish as she handed it to him. “I belong on the stage, out there in the world somewhere, not in Santa Cecilia. There isn’t enough room here.”

“Really?” She shook out the washcloth she’d been using and hung it up. “I would think that the big cities would be the crowded feeling places.”

“When I say room I mean people, not the hills.” Ernesto said, “When we performed in Mexico city there are thousands, millions of hearts that we could play to, whole crowds to love us and remember our names. Here there are only neighbors. Like you said, where there are more people there is more work.”

“That sounds lonely.” Ceci said, looking up as Coco pranced into the kitchen, “Being lost in a sea of strangers.”

“Tia Ceci,” Coco said, handing her a toy, “you’re the dog, you have to come find my butterfly now.”

“Alright mija,” Ceci said, playfully moving the toy dog like it was alive and coming after Coco, “I’m going to sniff it out!”

Coco squealed with delight and ran out of the room, followed by Ceci.

Ernesto stood alone in the kitchen for a long moment.

He hadn’t felt alone in the sea of strangers. Had he?

No, there was a real pleasure from performing, from seeing appreciation on the faces of his audience. A small flutter of excitement every time he saw someone’s eyes light up when they recognized his name, everytime he was invited to play at another gig.

Those were all moments that mattered, that kept him going, moments that made him want, _need_ , so desperately to make it. It was why he would keep traveling and performing until he got his big break. It was why he had to keep moving, why he could never settle in one place.

Although...it would be more lonely if Hector didn’t come with him whenever he set out again.

Ernesto caught himself chewing the inside of his lip and stopped, instead making himself leave the kitchen to join the other two.

Ceci didn’t know what she was talking about, she’d grown up in a small town. She’d never performed in front of a crowd hundreds strong, like he and Hector had the night before they’d returned home.   

She didn’t know what the call of fame was like.

***

Coco lasted an hour and a half before she started coming apart, becoming increasingly emotional whenever a game didn’t go her way or even when her parents came up in the adult’s conversation.

“Come on Coco, you need to calm down.” Ernesto said as the little girl finally started crying, over nothing of course.

“I think what she really needs is to go to sleep.” Ceci said, picking up the sniffling Coco and hugging her. “It’s starting to get late, chiquita.”

“But-I-I-don’t want to-sleep.” Coco said between sobs. She scrubbed her eyes. “I’m not tired, I want Mamá.”

Ernesto sighed, this was when he struggled with Coco, when she became incoherently emotional. Candy could only get you so far, especially when she had forgotten what little reasoning she had learned in her three short years of life.

“I’ll go put her to bed.” Ceci tried to stand, but Coco’s cries got louder.

No, Ernesto had tried that route before, she would just become more upset the closer you got to her bedroom.

“Here, let me try something first.” Ernesto said, getting up.

He walked out of the room and ducked into Hector and Imelda’s bedroom, glancing around until he spotted the grinning head of Hector’s skeleton performing guitar. Perfect. He retrieved it as quickly as he could, feeling oddly intrusive in the quiet room.

He swung the leather strap over his head, walking back to where Ceci was sitting by the fireplace with Coco as the little girl continued to fuss.

He pulled a pick out of his back pocket and ran it down the strings, testing the instrument’s tuning.

Coco’s crying hushed, momentarily distracted as he sat cross-legged on the floor near her and Ceci.

“Any requests mija?” He asked gently, twisting a couple pegs a bit.

Coco only sniffled in response, so he started playing something soft, picking out the notes as they came to him.

The low lights of the fireplace and the oil lamps softened the shadows that danced across the room as he played, a gentle chorus of crickets outside provided accompaniment.

Ceci adjusted to let Coco sit in her lap as she gradually calmed down, stroking her hair as the little girl hugged her arm, watching Ernesto play.

Relieved that it was working, Ernesto let his mind drift with the music, wandering with the tune. A set of notes that had been hovering in the back of his mind all week came back to him and he started exploring the wisp of a melody, letting it breathe into something more complex.

It had been a long time since he’d played around with a tune of his own, a lingering side effect of his teenage years. Hector was always encouraging him to try writing his own music again, but it wasn’t that easy. Ernesto’s right arm still twitched sometimes with the memory of being broken, a souvenir from the night his father had thrown him out of the house for declaring he was going to be a musician.

It had been months before he could comfortably play a guitar again, hiding at Hector’s house as his arm healed. A few months later the two had set out on their first music trip, an outright act of defiance on Ernesto’s part, but his father’s voice still rang in his ears sometimes. Calling his music trash, saying no one would ever want to hear anything he wrote.

“She’s asleep.” Ceci said softly.

Ernesto looked up from the guitar, pulled back to the moment by her voice. Ceci was smiling as she watched the now sleeping Coco who was curled up in her lap, still stroking her hair.

There was no denying how beautiful they were together. Coco looked perfect and sweet as she slept. Ceci’s head was tilted a little to the side, letting the glow of the fire delicately paint her chin and cheekbones with a nearly magical flickering orange glow.

The peace and contentment in the room was so strong that it felt like Ernesto could put some in his pocket for later if he wanted.

He felt an odd twinge in his heart as he continued to play.

He’d never had anything like this growing up, but he couldn’t help thinking that if he were ever to have a family of his own, he would want it to feel just like this, all the time.

Ceci looked up at him, her brown eyes nearly making him miss a note.

“What song are you playing?” She asked softly.

“It’s nothing.” Ernesto whispered back, “I don’t write songs, that’s Hector’s job.”

“Well I think it sounds nice.” She said, her smile as soft as her voice, “It sounds more...real than the other music I’ve heard you play. Like your heart is in it.”

It felt like an empty and forgotten part of Ernesto was filling with warmth straight from the fireplace beside them. A precious, more personal kind of feeling than anything he’d felt in a very long time.

He had no words, so he ducked his head and kept playing, but this time for her. He poured some of the warmth he felt inside down through his fingertips and into the melody.

In that moment, wrapped together in a cocoon of music and warmth, Ernesto felt like maybe he was beginning to understand, just a little, perhaps why Hector always wanted to return to Santa Cecilia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everyone! Updates may get a little spotty over the break while I'm with mi familia, but I'll still be writing. :)
> 
> Cheers,  
> \- Wit


	5. Possibility

“So she's not evil.” Ernesto said grudgingly, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall. “But that doesn't change anything.”

Hector wasn't even trying to hide his amusement, grinning as he ran through scales on his guitar. Imelda and the twins had already started in the workshop for the morning, so they were rehearsing in the Rivera courtyard instead.

“Nothing at all?” Hector raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing.” Ernesto said, “And the whole thing was very low of you amigo, I can't believe Imelda talked you into that.”

“Who said it was Imelda’s idea?" Hector said, tipping back his straw hat with a mischevious look. 

Ernesto harrumphed and rolled his eyes, trying to seem as grumpy as possible. After putting Coco to bed he and Ceci had had a whole evening by the fire to talk quietly. About her family, about his travels, about her dreams of designing clothing, about his childhood with Hector. A little bit of everything without getting too deep about anything.

It hadn't been until Hector and Imelda returned, sometime around midnight, that Ernesto realized he could have left anytime after Coco went to sleep. Instead, he'd summoned the most betrayed stare he could manage to shoot Hector as he strode past him to Dante, but he couldn't pretend he hadn't smiled the whole ride home.

He hadn't slept much last night, turning over the night in his head again and again, thinking of what Ceci had said, what she had done, how she had looked.

He felt half delirious. He was unable to focus on anything else, was losing sleep, grinning like an idiot, and he hated it. If he’d wanted to act like a fool he would have gotten himself drunk. At least if it were alcohol he'd know when its effects would wear off.

“So you have no interest in seeing her again?” Hector asked.

“She seems nice,” Ernesto shrugged. “I’d talk to her if I saw her, but I don’t intend to court her. I have too many life goals for that, Hector.”

“Ah, well that’s too bad,” Hector said, inspecting the calluses on his fingertips, “Ceci told Imelda that she really enjoyed last night.”

“Really?” Even Ernesto was caught off guard with how eager he sounded.

Hector looked up, smiling slyly at him and raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up.” Ernesto said, pushing Hector’s shoulder and nearly making him fall backward off his seat as the idiot laughed at him.

“I don’t understand why you’re so determined to not like her, amigo.” Hector chuckled, pulling himself back onto his stool. “She’s obviously on your mind.”

“That’s the problem.” Ernesto said, rubbing his tired eyes and leaning heavily against the wall with a sigh. “She won’t get out of my head, I’m useless for hours every time I see her. It’s a bad as you were when you were courting Imelda.” He glared at Hector before his friend could make a quip on this last remark. “And yes, that’s a bad thing. Remember the time I had to keep you from walking in front of a train because you were reading a letter from her? That’s how I feel all the time now, like I’m about to be hit by a train.”

“The train of love.” Hector said, picking out a dreamy cord and sighing teasingly.

“And besides,” Ernesto said, ignoring him, “she seems nice now, but what if she turns out to be another Maria? I don’t have time for that kind of risk.”

“Maria was a tramp.” Imelda called.

Ernesto turned to see her with arms crossed, leaning on a nearby windowsill to overhear their conversation from inside the house.

“And I told you that before you ever tried talking to her," she continued, "that particular revoltijo was your own fault. You don’t have to worry about Ceci. If anything bad happens it’ll be your fault, not hers.”

“Such words of comfort.” Ernesto said. "I feel much better."

“Searingly correct, as always, mi amor.” Hector called back to her, picking out a few bars of _La Llarona_ , her favorite, just for her on his guitar. “But I think this dish needs to be cooked slowly, or it will burn.”

“Alright, but you’re a terrible cook mi corazon, don’t let it sit too long.” Imelda winked and then walked away from the window.

Ernesto should have been even more irritated by this exchange of wits, annoyed at the sloppy grin on Hector’s face as he distractedly continued to play his wife’s favorite tune, but for some reason he wasn’t. Instead he was noticing for the first time the spirited but balanced give-and-take they had. There was a respect and love that backed their every remark, a care they took to let each other know they were valued.

No remark was too barbed, and no joke was meant to truly hurt or dominate.

He wondered what it might feel like to have something like that with someone.

“Dia de los Muertos is in a few days.” Hector said, strumming an energetic cord to break away from _Llorona_. “We’ve got the plaza performance that night.”

“So?” Ernesto asked.

“Invite Ceci to come watch us.” Hector said, “You’ll never be able to get her out of your head if you don’t at least try. Either you’ll realize you’re right and she’s not for you, or who knows, maybe you’ll find out you’re wrong, amigo.”

“I’m not wrong.” Ernesto said, but Hector might be right. Maybe actually doing something would help get her out of his system. “If I did ask her, would you and Imelda stop pestering me about it? Stop these ridiculous tricks?”

“I swear it.” Hector solemnly raised an arm to the square above his guitar, but with an eager spark in his eye.

“I’ll think about it.” Ernesto said, to keep Hector from getting too excited, but also to try and calm the nerves suddenly squirming in his own stomach.

He’d already spoken to her in public, she had already seen him play, and they’d been quite comfortable talking together for hours last night. So why did the thought of inviting her to a performance make him feel such nervous excitement?

Ernesto picked up his guitar from where it was leaning against the wall next to him, slinging the strap over his shoulder and starting some warm-ups to distract himself. Hector followed suit, beginning to play and sing his own tune to get his voice working for the day instead of focusing on Ernesto.

Which was a good thing too, Ernesto had just realized that the tune he’d started playing was the same as last night.

He had to do _something_ to get his focus back. Hopefully Hector’s suggestion would work.


	6. Seizing the Moment

It took Ernesto three days. Three days of hemming and hawing, of talking himself in and then out of asking Ceci to their performance. They would have been very enjoyable days too if he hadn’t been turning himself inside out with indecision.

She had stopped by the pavilion every day. Each day they’d had a delightfully normal conversation that had ended with him panicking as their chat came to a close, then berating himself as he watched her go from stall to stall around the marketplace, buying whatever it was that she needed that day.

He was pretty sure that she didn’t need that many tomatoes every single day, but if he was right then maybe that meant she was also making up reasons to visit the plaza every day. The potential implications of that thought made his head spin a little with delight.

But now Dia de los Muertos was tomorrow night, and he’d wasted too many chances. This morning was going to be different.

He was already in the pavilion before the cool morning dew had the chance to evaporate off the scrubby grass of the plaza. The vendors were busier than usual, hawking Dia de los Muertos goods to last-minute shoppers for tomorrow, setting colorful bunches of orange flowers and pans of sugar skulls on display.

“Buenos días Ernesto!”

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of Ceci’s voice. He turned to see her walk up and lean against the railing of the steps, a basket slung over one arm.

“Buenos días Señorita!” Ernesto said, consciously toning down the joy in his expression to a normal looking level. “How are you this morning? Did you finish the Jalisco skirt you were telling me about yesterday?”

“Not quite yet,” she said, her long fingers delicately brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear. “it feels like for every inch of lace I stitch, another mile of fabric appears ahead of it. I’ve got to finish it by this afternoon, so I’m afraid I can’t talk today, but I wanted to say hello.”

No no no, the conversation was ending much too quickly.

“Well thank you for stopping by, and good luck in your project!” Ernesto said, his frantic brain shutting out what he should have said and diving for the easy answer.

She waved cheerfully as she walked away to a flower stand.

Ernesto barely resisted the urge to slap himself. What an idiot, he’d let his moment slip away. He watched her walk up to the vendor and start to pick through marigold bouquets.

No. He was better than this. He was Ernesto de la Cruz. He could do this.

In a half-panicked motion he leapt to his feet, not hesitating to jump over the pavilion railing. He cringed at the sound of the guitar slung across his back glancing off the metal, but it was too late to worry about that now. The last surviving shred of his dignity demanded that he walk, not run, across the plaza, but it was a very fast walk.

“Uh, Ceci?” he said, coming up behind her.

She turned and her eyebrows jumped in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were allowed to leave the pavilion.” She teased, smirking in her maddingly adorable way.

Ernesto smiled back but was dying inside. She was going to turn him down, but at least then he would have his life back right? He could lick his wounds and finally move on. It wouldn’t be too bad, he’d probably survive.

“Hector and I are playing here tomorrow,” he said, his words tumbling over each other in his rush to get it over with. “I mean for the festival, we’re playing music. Here at the plaza. Tomorrow. Do you want to come watch us?”

“Oh,” Ceci said, looking surprised, “well, I’ll be celebrating the holiday with mi familia tomorrow.”

Ernesto felt something inside him collapsing, his mind already scrambling to assemble a nonchalant quip he could use to retreat with a little damage as possible.

“But,” she continued, reviving him in a dizzying instant. “I could come afterward. I might only be able to catch the end of your performance, but I’d love to see you play.”

“Great.” Ernesto said, everything inside him thrown into a jubilant panic. “That’s great!”

Had she just said yes? He was pretty sure she’d said yes, but now he suddenly couldn’t remember what exactly she’d actually just said. She was supposed to have turned him down with a witty jab and then walk away, something Imelda had mercilessly done to Hector at every stage of their labored courtship.

It was becoming clear however that Ceci was not Imelda at all. She was strong, but so much sweeter than Imelda’s occasionally overwhelming spice.

Perhaps that was why she was able to pull him apart from the inside without even realizing it.

“It’s at eight. The performance tomorrow I mean.” He said, unconsciously wringing the strap of his guitar as he started backing away, his brain’s command to retreat apparently not having been revoked. “But whenever you can come would be great, I’ll watch for you. Good luck on your skirt! Again!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, and thank you.” She said with a bemused smile as he all but fled the square.

He ducked out of sight behind a colorful display of papel picado, his pulse far too quick for having walked only a dozen yards. The adrenaline buzzing through him somehow felt a lot more electric than usual. He’d done it, she was actually going to come. He knew for a fact that he was behaving like a first-class idiot, but he also no longer cared, she’d said yes!

He released the guitar strap he had been throttling and set off down the street at a half-run, completely forgetting that he’d ridden Dante there as he took off on foot.

A truly terrifying and insane idea had been percolating in the back of his mind for three days now, and if it was going to be ready for tomorrow night he’d need all the help from Hector that he could get.


	7. Genuine

“Ernesto, if you don’t stop staring at Ceci during this next song, I swear I’m going to pour the rest of my canteen on you during the chorus.” Hector whispered.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as they both paused for a drink before launching into their last song of the night. The Dia de los Muertos crowd around the plaza was still clapping and hollering in a colorful swirl of delight from the previous song.

“You should have told her to come after the performance, muchacho,” Hector continued with a grin, “I didn’t realize your brain would melt out of your ears when she showed up. Just now you tried singing the first verse three times.”

Ernesto took the canteen from Hector, playfully shoving his shoulder as he took a swig. As he screwed the cap back on his eyes found Ceci again. She was standing near the back of the crowd, wearing a beautiful forest-green ruffled dress he’d never seen before, her face was delicately painted in calaveras skull-makeup.

  
She was chatting and smiling with some of the other people in the crowd, but also stealing glances up at him whenever she could. There was no way Ernesto was going to chance missing even one of those glances, he didn’t care how much Hector teased him for it.

“Ernesto!” Hector said, snapping his fingers in his face.

“I’m fine, I’m good.” Ernesto said, blinking and scrambling to pick up his guitar, slinging the strap over his shoulder again.

“I was asking if you want me to solo.” Hector shook his head, gold tooth glinting as he laughed. “Get off the stage hermano, go to her, I’ll take the last song.”

Ernesto gripped his guitar. He’d never left a performance early before, but his eyes were pulled back to where Ceci was now leaning against a wall as the edge of the crowd, her head tilted to the side and her arms folded as she watched him from afar.

“Imelda.” Hector called, waving his wife over from where she was standing near the stage.

Imelda handed Coco to one of her brothers and took Hector’s hand, letting him pull her up onto the stage.

“Tell this love-sick idiota to get off our stage.” Hector said, taking Imelda’s hand and spinning her once before pulling her close, to the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd. “We’re taking the last song, mi amor.”

Imelda laughed and kissed him on the cheek, then looked at Ernesto, her expression mock-serious. “Go find your own dance partner Ernesto, Hector’s mine.”

Ernesto threw up his hands, “My apologies Señorita, he’s all yours.”

He couldn’t help grinning as he jumped down off the stage. Hector’s strummed the opening bars of an upbeat tune as he called out a loud grito, sparking an enthusiastic response from the already cheering crowd. Ernesto knew he should feel cheated to be missing out on the applause, but all he could see in the thick crowd was Ceci watching his with an amused smile.

“You escaped early.” She called as Ernesto struggled his way towards her.

“Imelda wanted the last song,” Ernesto said loudly over the noise of the tight crowd. He looked up to the stage where Imelda and Hector were now singing an energetic duet, she dancing while he played. “I’ve found that it’s dangerous to get between those two.”

“You’re smarter than you look.” Ceci teased, shocking him with a hug when he finally got close enough. She smelled like citrus and soap, and as far as he was concerned this night was already worth it.  

“Do you want to get away from here?” He asked as she pulled away from the hug. “The fireworks will be starting soon. I know the best place to watch them if you want, a hill in the cemetery, they’re my favorite part.”

“I haven’t seen fireworks in years!” Ceci said eagerly, shifting closer to him to be out of the way as a troupe of dancers moved past them. Ernesto offered her his arm and she took it, using her other hand to sweep her skirt out of the way. “If you can actually get us out that is.”

Ernesto scanned the crowd. Getting through the energetic crush of people at this point would be nearly impossible. He looked the other direction, back towards an alley that led away from the plaza.

“Do you think you could jump a fence in that much dress?” He asked, mostly joking.

But Ceci grinned and gathered up a handful of green fabric. “You’re the one in a mariachi suit, I’d say the first one to tear their clothing loses.”

Ernesto snorted grinning as he pulled her towards the alley. “Well I’m warning you now, I never lose.”

***

Ernesto lost.

It had been the second fence that had snagged his pant leg, tearing the white fabric all the way up to his knee before he’d been able to hoist himself down from the top of the fence. Ceci had been absolutely breathless, doubled over with tears of laughter by the time he’d finally freed himself, but had promised to mend it for him, saying the entertainment value had more than paid for it.

They were both still chuckling by the time they reached the cemetery, ducking in through the brightly lit gates with the steady flow of cheerful families going to and from graves of loved ones.

“I love seeing all the headstones decorated,” Ceci said, holding close to Ernesto’s arm as they passed by the colorfully festooned graves. Each one was draped with a collection of marigold wreaths, pan de muerto, photos, and cheerfully dancing candle flames. “I love feeling all the love in the air, that our ancestors get to visit us.”

“You really believe they visit?” Ernesto asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at her.

“Of course,” Ceci said, reaching out to trail her fingertips across the smooth marble of one of the headstones as they walked past it. “I can always feel my parents and brothers close on Dia de Muertos. It’s that warm, peaceful feeling I think, like you’re getting a hug. Don’t you feel it?”

Ernesto shrugged noncommittally. He couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like that, quite the opposite actually. The thought of his father perhaps being nearby at that moment only made a dark and cold feeling twist in his stomach.

He glanced briefly off to a darker corner of the cemetery that he’d never visited. With no candles, he couldn’t actually see it, but he knew that hidden there was a new headstone standing over a grave only a few months old. He’d refused to attend his father’s funeral, instead staying home while a cousin of his scraped up something half decent to say over the dead man as he was laid to rest.

Just that afternoon Ernesto had caught his mother putting his father’s picture on the family ofrenda.

_You really want him to come back after all he put you through?_   He’d said, reaching for the photo.

But she’s whipped off her chancala and smacked his hand away.  _Family is family._ She’d replied,  _You don’t get to prune your family tree, only learn how to graft in better branches._

Which hadn’t made any sense, but he’d let the issue drop, letting her have the victory. He didn’t have to go into the ofrenda room if he didn’t want to.

“Do you have any family here you want to visit?” Ceci asked, smiling as two little boys in calavera face-paint ran past them on the path, chasing after a dog.

“No, just distant cousins and aunts in here I think, no one I was ever really close to.” He said, leading her off the path to climb up the small hill in the middle of the cemetery. The silver moonlight spilled over her more noticeably as they moved away from the warm glow of the man-made lights. “My Mamá put up my father’s photo on the ofrenda, I can stop by that if I want.”

“Oh, you’ve never told me about your father,” Ceci said, “has he been gone a long time then?”

“No, just a couple months back actually. That’s what brought Hector and I home from our music tour.” Ernesto said. He pointed to the large pine tree that stood at the top of the hill as they reached it. “This is the best view of the fireworks in town, no one else ever thinks to come up here.”

“I’m sorry about your father.” Ceci let go of his arm and spread her skirts around her as she sat on the ground at the base of the tree, leaning against its wide trunk.

“Don’t be sorry, we weren’t.” Ernesto said, pulling his guitar from off his back and sighing as he sat down beside her. Close enough that their knees would touch if she wanted, but without him making the first move.

“Why isn’t anyone buried up here? It’s a lovely view.” Ceci asked, somehow becoming even more beautiful just for having not pursued a conversation about his father.

“Not sure.” Ernesto said, looking out over the festive orange-lit cemetery below them. “Maybe they’re waiting for someone rich and famous to build a mausoleum here? It would be an impressive centerpiece for the cemetery.”

“A whole building to yourself?” Ceci scrunched up her nose, a strange sight with the combination of pale moonlight on her makeup, making her look like she really was a spirit come to life. “That sounds ridiculous, it’s not like you really get to enjoy it when you’re dead.”

“Well, it’s more like a monument to your legacy, not just a place to store your bones.” Ernesto said, idly twisting a peg on his guitar. He actually quite liked the idea of having a grand marble building erected in his honor. Something that would make sure everyone who passed by would remember him after he was gone.

“I don’t know,” Ceci said, looking out over the cemetery again. She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, making her look smaller. “I’d rather be wherever my family is.”

“Back in your hometown then?” Ernesto said, pulling his guitar into his lap and very softly strumming gentle cords. Not a real song, just something to fill the air.

Ceci smiled at the music, resting her head on her arms as she watched him play. “I suppose, that’s where my Mamá and Abelita are buried. We never got my brothers and Papá back. Who knows, maybe I’ll grow old here and have my own family and be buried with them instead. I don’t know. Besides, I’ve got enough living family to worry about for now while helping with my nieces and nephews.”

“I really admire how good you are with kids,” Ernesto said. “I never had siblings growing up, so kids are always a bit of a mystery to me.”

“I think that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Thank you.” Ceci said, “You know you’re really not so bad when you’re being genuine. And I’d never have guessed, you’re so sweet with Coco.”

Ernesto ducked his head with a smile. He was remembering what she’d said earlier about happy peace and had just connected it with another memory. That was what he’d felt by the fire with her and Coco last Friday night.

His fingers shifted and the chords began organizing into the same tune he’d played for her that night, the melody now stronger with all the hours he’d practiced it since then. Her eyes widened a bit with recognition and she turned, repositioning herself so she was facing him as she leaned against the tree.

Ernesto’s heart pounded furiously in his chest as he rounded back to the beginning of the tune again. This was his chance, if he waited any longer he’d pass through the beginning of the melody again and sound stupid.

She’d said she liked him when he was genuine. He just had to remember that and hope to heaven that she was telling the truth, because he was about to be more genuine than he had been in years.

He took a deep breath as he played the opening cords of the song, but this time softly singing the words he had written for it. For her. A slow and lingering song that took its time to gently unspool the words.

_A ribbon of green runs all through her hair_

_and is woven around my heart_

_oh, ribbon of green, as she turns to leave_

_do not let us drift apart._

He paused to catch his breath through the butterflies in his stomach, plucking out the wordless chorus as he glanced up at Ceci just long enough to see that her smile had softened. Her head was tilted a little, attentive as she listened.

Hector had been over the moon when Ernesto had shyly asked him to look at his song notebook yesterday. Something he hadn’t done in a very long time. It had been the first time in years that a song had come easily, demanding to be written down.

Ernesto was pretty sure he’d finally discovered the reason why Hector’s best songs had all started coming to him during his courtship with Imelda.  

The butterflies in his stomach calmed as the music coaxed out something from inside him that was nothing if not genuine. It was something made of the same warm peace he’d felt by the fire, smoothing his way into the second verse without any trouble.

_She never will see how she’s tangled me,_

_for she’s left me alone to pine,_

_with only a ribbon around my heart,_

_wishing that she would be mine._

He wound down the song with a soft flourish, letting the last cord hang in the air. As he set the guitar down in front of him, he noticed that their knees were touching.

“Did you write it?” Ceci asked.

“All by myself.” He said, tipping his head back against the pine bark and then turning it to see her beautiful face, looking positively spectral only inches away from his own. “And…what did you think?”

“I still think it’s very, very nice.” She said softly.

Their closeness was intoxicating, making it feel as though Ernesto was being pulled towards her. She didn’t turn away, only smiling gently, so he leaned in.

A booming crack with a flash of green and red light exploded overhead the moment their lips touched. They both jerked back in surprise, shocked for a moment, then laughing as they looked up to watch the first fireworks of the night shimmer and fade away above them.

Ernesto turned to look back at Ceci, worried their moment may have been ruined as the shimmering light of more fireworks painted the landscape around them. 

But his breath caught as he felt her fingers trace up his jawline and into his hair. She leaned in again, giving him a real kiss this time, and own hand rose to cradle the back of her head, feeling the silk of her hair ribbon.

It was different than any other kiss he’d had before, soft and sweet, and real.

Long enough for him to completely forget where he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for being patient with the holiday pause on this chapter, but I think it was worth the wait. :) 
> 
> \- Wit


	8. Doubt

What if it hadn’t been real?

Ernesto stared at the stucco ceiling of his bedroom, the warm morning light from the window painting a bright patch against it. The question ringing in his head felt like it was weighing him down to the mattress.

He’d been fine when he’d first woken up half an hour ago, an oddly content feeling in his bones that turned to excitement when he’d remembered the night before. He’d spent it with Ceci, he’d played for her and they’d watched the fireworks and he’d  _kissed her_. It had been well after midnight when he’d walked her home after a perfect evening together.

That’s when the content feeling had started to fade as he realized last night had been almost too perfect, dreamlike even. The possibility that it might have just been a dream paralyzed him, making him lie still rather than get up and risk the memory of it fading.

Ernesto propped himself up on one elbow to look across the room. His white mariachi pants were draped over the back of a chair, the fabric on one leg ripped all the way up to the knee.

So last night really had happened then, which raised an even worse question.

What if it hadn’t been real?

Ernesto tried to push the question out of his mind, forcing himself up off the bed and into the day, but the worry gnawed at him as he got dressed, as he ate breakfast, as he swept the front steps as he tended the garden patch behind the house.

By the time he entered the stable to groom Dante, his stomach was so tied up in painful knots that he might have suspected food poisoning where his thoughts any less tangled.

Ernesto had courted plenty of women in his day, attracting attention had never been difficult for him, but every one of those relationships had ended up being brittle and shallow. There would be a kiss, maybe a present, occasionally something more, and then whatever spark of interest that had existed between them snuffed out the next day when one of them abruptly moved on.

Ernesto had decided long ago that long-term relationships must just be when two people decided to tolerate each other long enough for children to arrive.

He had tried his hand at courting every now and then when he’d had the time, after all, it was what young men were supposed to do. But he’d never felt the kind of deep concern and devotion for another person that he’d always heard romantics like Hector describe.

Until now.

Ernesto retrieved a round curry comb from a box in the corner of the stable and started rubbing it in rough circles across Dante’s stiff coat, knocking off the dust and loose horse hair as he went.

Ernesto had no way of knowing if Ceci felt the same way he did, but chances were she was just as superficial as the other girls, chances were she was just idly trifling with his feelings.

No. Ernesto shook his head, scoffing at the thought and scrubbing the curry comb harder. Ceci wasn’t shallow, she wasn’t like any other girl he’d ever met. If anything, the real danger was that he was taking things far more seriously than she was probably reasonably expecting. He could expect her to be intelligent, but suddenly he wasn’t so sure about if he could expect the same of himself.

They’d known each other for less than a month, what if he’d moved too fast last night? Or what if she’d just been having fun and it was a one-time thing? Last night had a been a holiday after all, everyone’s energy had been running high. She might not have really meant to kiss him, or at least not really meant the kiss.

What if the next time he saw her she rolled her eyes, said something teasing and they never went any further than that?

These kinds of things had happened to him before and he’d been strong enough to shake them off, but this time was different, this time it felt like something inside him might break.

And it would all his fault for getting attached so quickly.

Dante knickered, swinging his big grey head around to look at Ernesto, making him realize he’d been working away at the same patch on the horse’s shoulder for a full minute now.

“Aye, sorry amigo.” Ernesto said, patting the horse’s shoulder and moving the curry comb further down his back.

He glanced up at the saddle sitting on the stall’s railing and sighed. There was really only one way for him to find out whether or not he was imagining all of this. It would be better to bite the bullet sooner than later.

***

Ernesto kicked his boot through a pile of marigold petals lying in the gutter as he walked from the hitching post and into the town plaza. The colorful papel picado flags strung overhead would last until either the next rain storm or until someone was industrious enough to get out a ladder to take them down.

The market square was quieter than usual, especially for the early afternoon. Only a few vendors were out with their wares, most of the town undoubtedly enjoying a lazy morning after last night’s festivities.  

It was really very unlikely that Ceci would come today, she’d been out late last night and with the market this slow she wouldn’t have a reason to come buying.

Besides, if he had overestimated their friendship, which at this point he was convinced that he had, keeping her distance would be Ceci’s first step to letting him down easily.

Ernesto looked up, hearing the sound of a struggling guitar as he approached the plaza pavilion. There was already someone seated inside, the teenager from a couple weeks ago.

The boy looked up as Ernesto approached, eyes widening and jumping to his feet.

“Señor De la Cruz!” He squeaked, quickly getting to his feet as Ernesto ascended the steps, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you were coming today, I can leave.”

Ernesto hesitated, hand on the railing. He should gracefully accept the boy’s deference, this was his spot after all, but for some reason Ceci’s words from the night before were echoing in his ears.

_You’re really not so bad when you’re being genuine._

The boy looked…nervous as he stood there, waiting for his response.

It should have felt validating for Ernesto to know that his very presence made lesser musicians self-conscious, but really the whole concept suddenly seemed very tasteless.

“No no, don’t worry about it.” He said, motioning for the boy to sit back down again. “Would you mind if I joined you this morning?”

The boy’s eyes widened, “I, uh, are you sure?”

“Of course,” Ernesto said, walking into the pavilion and taking a seat on the rough cement floor. “if you’re interested, maybe I could teach you a few things?”

“That, that would be great!” The boy looked stunned but quickly sat, as if worried that Ernesto would disappear if he hesitated.

“What’s your name?” Ernesto swung his guitar around and began tuning it. Maybe he could start with some of the drills Hector used to run him through when they were young, it would give the kid more confidence when he transitioned between cords.

“Chicharrón,” the boy said eagerly, scooting forward a bit. “But everyone just calls me Chich.”

“Alright Chich,” Ernesto said, “let’s start with the basics.”

It was a little painful at first. Since Hector had always been the more talented musician, Ernesto had never needed to teach anyone guitar before, but soon Chich’s transitions were already sounding smoother as they played through “Pocco Loco” together over and over again as the sun rose in the sky.

When they finally paused for a break an hour later, Ernesto couldn’t help feeling pleased with himself. His student had noticeably improved. It made him wonder how good Chich might already be now if Ernesto had given him tips the first time they’d met instead of brushing him off. This all was nearly enough to make him forget that-

“You two having fun?”

Ernesto’s heart jumped and he turned, looking up to see Ceci leaning on the railing behind him, watching them with a smile.

“I didn’t think you were, were coming to the market today.” Ernesto said, his suddenly dry throat breaking the middle of his sentence.

“And miss seeing my favorite musician?” Ceci said, “I dropped by Imelda’s since I thought you might be there, but she said you hadn’t come by yet. I see you’ve got a new duet partner.”

“Señor De la Cruz has been giving me some lessons,” Chich said, standing. “but we just finished.”

“You don’t have to go.” Ernesto said, an inexplicable panic fluttering inside him at the thought of being alone with Ceci. 

She had actually come, she had come looking for  _him_. What if he messed this up? What if…if….he didn’t know,  _something_  went wrong and he blew it?

“It’s okay, I need to get home anyway.” Chich said, glancing between Ernesto and Ceci with a knowing smile. “Could I maybe play guitar with you again sometime Señor?”

“Anytime.” Ernesto nodded as Chich left the pavilion, abandoning him to the mercy of the most beautiful woman in Mexico.

“That’s very sweet of you to give him lessons.” Ceci said, watching Chich walk away across the plaza, guitar in tow.

“Everyone’s got to start somewhere.” Ernesto said, moving over as Ceci came into the pavilion, sitting down right next to him.

She was close enough that their knees were touching.

All the panicked and anxious feelings inside Ernesto slipped away with her this close, fading like the last note of a finished song. Her hair was done up in a different kind of braid than usual and she was wearing a dress made of soft blue cotton, the skirts expertly pleated, probably by her own hand.

And she’d come looking for him.

“And how are you this morning?” He asked, unable to keep a smile off his face.

“Very well, no thanks to you keeping us up so late last night.” she smiled that sweet but sassy smile that always drove him absolutely crazy.

“Oh, that was my fault?” he chuckled, trying not to think about how much he wanted to kiss her.

But no, he needed to keep his head, needed to match her pace, to not overreact. He could handle that, he could go without kissing her if it meant she would stay.

“We can share the blame if you really want.” She pushed his shoulder playfully. “Also, Imelda wants to know if you’ll be coming in time to have lunch at their place.”

“Will you be there?” Ernesto asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Ceci said, “As long as you carry my basket for me.”

“I can probably handle that,” he stood and offered her his hand. “but you realize Hector and Imelda are going to be teasing the two of us the whole time.”

“I think we’re a match for them, just follow my lead if you get lost.” Ceci chuckled as she took Ernesto’s hand and let him pull her to her feet.

He should have taken a step back as she stood, but somehow didn’t quite manage it, leaving them standing very close to each other.

She smiled up at him, their several inches of height difference obvious this close together. “What, something on your mind?” she asked.  

“Have I already mentioned that you look beautiful this morning?” Ernesto asked.

“No, but you really should have.” Ceci teased. She pulled on the lapels of Ernesto’s jacket, making him lean down as she rocked up on her toes to playfully kiss him on the mouth.

“My mistake.” Ernesto grinned, his mind reeling in entirely pleasant shock as she let go of his jacket.

“Don’t let it happen again.” Ceci said, handing him her basket, “We’d better get going if we don’t want to give Hector and Imelda too much to hold over us.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Ernesto said, picking up his guitar as Ceci swept out of the pavilion in a swirl of navy skirts that brushed against his shins.

He heard the beginning of a new tune playing in the back of his head as he followed her across the plaza, the notes as gentle and playful as that kiss had been.

Ernesto wondered if maybe he would be able to write her another song tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience everyone, between school starting up again and the teacher!AU story I've been writing over on tumblr things got a little mixed up. My goal is to have this be a weekly update from here on out. :)
> 
> For more of my fanfiction, updates, and Coco headcanon you can visit me on tumblr:  
> https://im-fairly-whitty.tumblr.com/
> 
> Cheers,  
> \- Wit


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick flashback to when Imelda and Hector oh-so-sneakily asked Ceci to watch Coco. Inspired by the lovely fanart of @radiocodart on tumblr which you can find here!! 
> 
> http://radiocodart.tumblr.com/post/170478361046/i-said-i-would-and-i-did-i-have-been-reading

“There! There she is!” Hector said, excitedly pulling Imelda’s arm as he tried to dive through the market crowd towards Ceci.

But Imelda grabbed the collar of his jacket, yanking him back behind the fruit vendor’s stall where they’d been keeping on eye on the afternoon market crowd for nearly an hour now.  

“You are unbelievable.” Imelda hissed, “What have we  _just_  been talking about?”

“I was going to be subtle,” Hector whispered back, trying to look wounded, but smiling too widely to quite pull it off. “I’m the king of subtlety, mi amor.”

“You’re the king of an awful lot of things,” Imelda scolded, a grin sneaking through her stern expression, “but that is not one of them. We’ve only got one shot at this, you know how sharp Ceci is. Let me take the lead.”

“Always, mi vida.” Hector bowed grandly, barely catching his straw summer hat before it fell off his head. 

“You can greet her,” Imelda said, taking the arm he offered her as he straightened again. “but after that let me do the talking, got it?”

“Si, no talking. Easy.” Hector nodded. “No problem, I’ll just keep my mouth shut and make sure that I don’t say anything. Should be simple, being quiet is-”

“ _Hector.”_

He clamped his mouth shut, putting a finger to his own lips as they walked out into the plaza.

Imelda rolled her eyes and took a moment to adjust her expression into something more neutral that might have a chance of fooling Ceci. 

Ceci was busy as always, bustling from vendor to vendor with a small bolt of purple cloth against her shoulder and bundles of goods in her arms. Judging by the  _pins_ between her lips, it always made Imelda nervous when Ceci walked around like that, she’d ducked out in the middle of a project to get more materials.

Imelda pulled Hector not toward Ceci, but in front of her. It was mere moments before Ceci, intent on her errands, walked right past them.

“Hola Ceci!” Hector called, waving to get her attention. Ceci glanced over, eyebrows raising in recognition before she smiled and changed her course towards them.

“Was that good?“ Hector whispered to Imelda.

“Yes. Now hush.” Imelda whispered back.

“Imelda! Hector!” Ceci said, nimbly pulling the pins out of her mouth and sticking them in the tiny pincushion strapped onto her wrist. “How are you two? Sorry Imelda, I’d hug you if I weren’t carrying so much.”

“No worries, you look like you’re in a rush.” Imelda smiled.

“You know me.” Ceci chuckled, shifting her bolt of cloth. “I’ve always got something going on. How’s little Coco doing? I’ve been wanting to get over to your place and spoil her, but I keep forgetting to make the time.”

“Actually-!” Hector started, but caught himself, looking at Imelda in apology with a pause that was far more awkward than if he’d just finished his sentence.

“What?” Ceci said, looking from Hector to Imelda.

“Oh, we were actually just talking about how we need someone to watch Coco this Friday!” Imelda said, coming to her husband’s rescue and jumping to her point much faster than she would have liked. “The twins already have something they’re going to be doing that night and we were hoping to get out of the house for the evening.”

“Oh, well, actually I think I could make that work.” Ceci said, tapping her chin thoughtfully with her pincushion hand. “I really would like some time with my little sobrina, have a few hours to let my hair down.”

“Eeeeeyou should probably leave it up actually.” Hector said, sounding like the sentence had involuntarily forced its way out despite his best efforts. 

Imelda kept her pleasant smile, but her fingernails dug into his elbow.

“I mean, your braid is always so pretty.” Hector said, his eyes getting wide as he kept talking and Imelda’s nail dug harder, panicking as he lost control of his mouth. “And that green dress of yours? Coco’s always asking about it, I know she’d love it if you came in it.”

“Aha. Well, I’d hate to disappoint Coco.” Ceci said cheerfully, but Imelda caught the ever so slight narrowing of Ceci’s eyes, a sign of suspicion that only a childhood friend would notice.

“Hector, I just remembered that thing we have soon.” Imelda said, raising her eyebrows meaningfully as she looked up at him. 

“Right! That is definitely a thing we can’t afford to miss!” Hector said, throwing himself into her escape route. “We’d better go right now shouldn’t we?”

“Absolutely.” Imelda said, nodding. “Sorry to run Ceci, I’ll come get you on Friday, we can walk together and have some time to catch up, alright?”

“I’d love that!“ Ceci said, her eyes still just a  _little_  too squinted, her smile just a little too knowing. “I’ll be sure to wear my good dress too. For Coco.”

“Lovely, I’ll you on Friday!” Imelda said, pulling Hector away and back into the bustle of the market crowd.

“I think that went well.” Hector said cheerfully once they were safely out of earshot.

“That was a trainwreck.” Imelda said, “Was it really too much to keep your mouth shut for one minute?”

“Ah, si, I apologize for that.“ Hector said, grinning sheepishly, “I don’t think she suspects anything though?”

“Let’s just count it as a blessing that at least Ernesto is as clueless as you are.” Imelda said, but she bumped up against him as they walked to let him know she wasn’t really upset.

Well, it had probably too much to hope that they could completely fool Ceci anyways. At least she would be prepared when she showed up on Friday.

Imelda smiled to herself. She certainly couldn’t say the same for Ernesto. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this last week or two I've realized that there are some really big things coming up in the plot that I hadn't thought about. It's going to require scrapping and reworking all the outlining I'd had planned for maximum story quality, so thank you for your patience in advance as I figure out what comes next for Ernesto and Ceci. :) If you're hankering for more Verde or Coco headcanon in the meantime you can always come hang out with me on tumblr!
> 
> \- Wit
> 
> https://im-fairly-whitty.tumblr.com/


	10. Different Cloth

 

Ernesto knew that Ceci wanted yellow thread, he’d remembered when she’d off-handedly mentioned it weeks ago, but now that he was walking into her family’s compound he found himself second and triple guessing himself. What if he’d somehow mixed it up and it really had been purple thread?

“Ernesto!” José cried, the little boy spotting him entering the courtyard. The seven year-old pranced up to Ernesto, brandishing a stick like a sword when he reached him. “En garde!”

“Is your Tia Ceci here?” Ernesto said, looking down at the boy with an amused smile. He wasn’t anywhere near as cute as Coco, but in Ernesto’s limited sobrino experience José was a pretty good kid.

“Maybe.” José said mischievously, “Do you have candy?”

“Not for robbers.” Ernesto scoffed, “I could have you arrested for this stick-up.”

“No! I’m not robbing you, I’m a vaquero.” José said, his stick dropping to his side, “I’m the good guy, you’re the bad guy.”

“José, leave Ernesto alone.” They both looked over to see that Ceci calling to them from the veranda, having just come out of the house. “Everyone knows he’s the good guy.”

“See? Your tia knows what she’s talking about.” Ernesto ruffled José’s hair as he walked past him to Ceci.

José squawked indignantly behind him, but Ernesto was already ducking out of the hot afternoon sun and into the cool shade of the porch.

“You’re late today.” Ceci said, folding her arms in mock sternness.

“I had to stop by the postmaster’s this morning.” Ernesto said.

He pulled a small paper carton out of his satchel and handed it to her, savoring the bright look of excitement that danced in her eyes as she took it.

“What is it?” She asked, shaking it by her ear experimentally.    

“Open it and see.” He chuckled, leaning back against the veranda railing.

He watched with a smile as she began fighting with the twine. He would have offered her his flip knife, but already knew from experience that she would wave it away, insisting that she “nearly had it.” After courting her for three weeks now Ernesto had learned a lot of small things like that about her.

She made a small noise of victory as she worked the string over a corner of the box and pried the side open, carefully tipping its contents into her hand.

“The tuscany yellow!” Ceci cried in delight, holding up the three spools of canary-colored thread, “How did you know? Where did you get it? The depot’s been out for months!”

“I pulled a few...strings.” Ernesto said, feeling positively Héctor-ish as he grinned at his own joke. Ernesto had always prided himself in his ability to figure out what made people tick, and he’d discovered that few things made Ceci feel as happy as an especially thoughtful gift.

“Thank you, it’s perfect!” Ceci hugged him excitedly, then pulled back to look inside the carton again, “There’s something else in here.”

She pulled out a small paper envelope and carefully opened the flap, tipping several shining buttons carved from mother-of-pearl into her palm.

“Oh, Ernesto,” she said, looking at him with a pleased expression that made him want to shout with victory. “They’re beautiful, I know exactly what I’m going to use these for. How can I pay you back?”

Ernesto couldn’t help smugly congratulating himself on his cleverness. He’d guessed on the buttons, but their high price tag had been a good clue and it seemed that he’d guessed right.

“You could let me watch you work this afternoon?” Ernesto said, resting his hands back against the railing.

“Hmm.” Ceci considered him with a calculating look as she carefully tipped the buttons and thread back into the carton.

All Ernesto wanted lately was to be around Ceci, but she’d never let him into her workroom before, claiming that no one got to come in and distract her while she worked.

But that was hours every day that Ernesto couldn’t be around her, meaning he’d been trying to earn his way in right from the beginning.

“And what exactly would you do all afternoon, if I let you in?” She asked, testing him.

“I’ve got letters to write.” Ernesto held up his satchel, having come prepared. “And if you wanted to talk while you worked, I wouldn’t be opposed to that either.”

Ceci squinted at him for a long moment. Ernesto silently willed her to say yes as hard as he could.

“You’re on trial today.” Ceci said, turning to lead the way to the side room at the back of the house. “I reserve the right to kick you out whenever I like.”

“Si, Señorita.” Ernesto grinned as he followed her in.

He toned down his smile of self-congratulations as he politely nodded to the family members they passed on their way to Ceci’s workroom. He’d done it, he’d convinced her. As an extra bonus, Héctor hadn’t believed it would work, meaning Ernesto would get to lord it over him later.

“You realize the sacrifice I’m making for you by keeping the curtain open.” Ceci said, sweeping aside the curtain in the doorway, then fastening it open for propriety.

“Which is why I’ll be the perfect guest.” Ernesto assured her, seating himself in a large wicker chair, in full view of the doorway should any of her family members happen to look in.  

He hadn’t quite realized how much of a reputation around town he had for being a ladies’ man until courting Ceci. For the first couple weeks her family members were constantly hovering over them, always as cheerfully respectful of him as he was of them, but always with an underlying implication that under no circumstances was he to misuse her trust.

And Ernesto couldn’t exactly blame them either. Being attractive meant he’d never struggled to get feminine attention, but he’d never cared to hold onto it for more than a week or two before moving on. Apparently a track record of quantity over quality gave a man a less than savory reputation among the families of young women.

But Ceci wasn’t like the other girls. While other women constantly wanted to be held and kissed, something of a chore in Ernesto’s opinion, Ceci hadn't made these demands. Ernesto had never realized how taxing it had been until he was suddenly with someone who didn’t care about those things. She cared more about him than physical affection, and it was an incredible, albeit entirely unexpected, relief.

Ceci always greeted everyone with a hug, and there were of course the hello and goodbye kisses that would be expected of any courting couple, but overall Ernesto had been pleasantly surprised to find that their most comfortable and frequent moments were not spent in each other’s arms, as most women seemed to expect of relationships. He’d never been so at ease spending so much time around anyone other than Héctor before.

“So how much mail from fans are you answering today?” Ceci asked as Ernesto unpacked a stack of letters onto the workbench in front of him.

Her workroom wasn’t very large, but there was a tall chest of drawers near a clothing dummy with what looked like a half-formed skirt pinned to it. She was already putting her new yellow thread into a woven hamper on a stool and pulling out a small pincushion that she strapped to her wrist.

“I wish it was fanmail.” Ernesto sighed, pulling out his pen knife and starting to cut open envelopes. “Just keeping up old contacts so Héctor and I can actually get out of this town again someday. We were so close when we were in Mexico City, Ceci, we were so close to something big. I could feel it.”

“Well if you got that close once, you’ll do it again.” Ceci said, setting to work on the half finished skirt.

Ernesto hummed in response as he ripped open another letter.

It had been easy to think that when he and Héctor had first come back for the funeral, but the longer they stayed, the less confident Ernesto was that things would be able to go back to normal.

He and Héctor still practiced and played together regularly, at least they both still agreed that music itself could never be stripped from their daily lives, but Ernesto had the uneasy feeling that when the time came, convincing Héctor to leave was going to be a brand-new kind of difficult.

He unfolded a letter and scanned it. Snorting, he tossed it into the pile of read mail.

“What’s so funny?” Ceci asked around the pins in her mouth, not looking up from where she was bent over the waistline of the skirt.

“Nothing.” Ernesto said out of habit, reaching for the next letter. Héctor only ever had eyes for letters from his family, meaning Ernesto had always had to take care of all other correspondence.

“Nonsense, you thought it was funny.” Ceci insisted, looking up. “I’ll kick you out of my workroom you don’t tell me.”

“Alright, alright,” Ernesto smiled, raising an eyebrow and reaching for the letter again. “I just don’t think you’ll find it all that interesting. It’s from a stage manager of a cantina in Oaxaca we played at a year ago, he writes sometimes to see if we still play for free.”

“Well he’s in luck then, coinless music is your specialty isn’t it?” Ceci teased.

“Not if we have to travel all the way to Oaxaca.” Ernesto said, folding the letter back up.

“Well good, you two are too talented to be giving away your skill for nothing anyway.” Ceci said, nodding firmly. “You should tell him that next time you’re traveling his way for your other paid performing jobs, you’d be willing to perform for him at a discounted rate. For old times sake.”

Ernesto stared at the letter critically. He’d been planning to just ignore it, let the unknowing insult get thrown into a wastebasket, but Ceci’s suggestion actually did sound better if he thought about it. It would keep a possible connection open while boosting their reputation as professionals.

“You give much better advice than Héctor.” Ernesto said, reaching for the box that held his fountain pen and a fresh sheet of paper.

“Well I should hope so.” Ceci said, “I love Héctor dearly, but there’s a reason that it was Imelda that started the shoe shop. That man lives for the moment, not for the future.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.” Ernesto chuckled, smiling as he began to write the opening of his response. He paused and glanced up at her. “Of course this means that I’ll actually have to make another tour at some point.”

“Such is the life of a traveling musician.” Ceci said absently as she continued to work.

“I would probably have to be gone for several months.” Ernesto said, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

He’d never actually tested this with her before, the thought of him traveling. He didn’t really like the thought of being away from her, any more than the prospect of perhaps leaving Héctor behind. But if things were to...progress...for the two of them, he had to know if she would try to tie him down like Imelda had with Héctor.

“Probably three months at the very least,” Ceci said, rifling through her thread hamper again.

“if you’re going to get you money’s worth on traveling fare anyway.”

“So...you mean to say that you’d be alright having a husband who was on the road all the time?” Ernesto asked, knowing how obvious he was being, but also knowing she wouldn’t mind.

“I don’t know, I’ve never had a husband before.” Ceci said, glancing up at him and smiling at his bluntness, “But I imagine I would. I have plenty of my own projects. As long as said husband wrote often and didn’t stay away too much longer than he had to, I think I could manage. Especially if it was for a good reason and I knew it wasn’t a permanent arrangement.”

“See? You get it,” Ernesto said, pointing his half drafted letter at her, “that’s what I try to tell Héctor, but he always says he needs to be home with Imelda. Maybe you could finally talk some sense into them, make them see that they’re being ridiculous.”

“Absolutely not.” Ceci said, defly stabbing a fold into place without so much as looking at him.

Ernesto blinked. “But you just said-”

“Why would you assume that what I want is what someone else wants?” Ceci asked, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Imelda and I are completely different people, we’re cut from entirely different cloth. I said I could make do, I’m used to the men in my life being absent, I could cope, but not Imelda.”

Ceci shook her head as she pulled another pin from the pincushion strapped to her wrist. “She has a child Ernesto, do you have any idea what happens to her when Héctor leaves? She’s completely brittle until he comes back, she’s constantly on edge, worrying something will happen to him. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve spent the night at her place because I can tell she’s lonely, even if she won’t say it. She looks tough on the outside, and she is, but she and Héctor need to be close. You’ve seen them together, you know that.”

Ernesto was stunned. All he’d said was...well...

He distractedly shuffled some of his papers together while his thoughts scrambled, but Ceci didn’t seem to notice as she continued to pin and stitch.

“So...you don’t think that I should travel?” He asked carefully.

“I never said that, I’m only saying that Imelda and I have different needs.” Ceci said simply.

Ernesto squinted at the pile of letters on the workbench in front of him. Sure it was hard for Imelda, but it wasn’t exactly easy for him and Héctor either. He and Héctor both had to make sacrifices for their careers.

_We’re cut from entirely different cloth._

Ernesto shook his head as Ceci’s words rang in his ears, starting on his his half-finished letter again.

He and Héctor both still wanted to play for the world, Héctor was just getting too comfortable was all, settling into their break a little too much. He’d snap out of it when money got low again.

Ernesto continued to write his reply, using Ceci’s suggestion about the discount on a future tour.

He wasn’t exactly sure why he still felt uncomfortable, something itching in the back of his thoughts as he wrote.

He would have to figure it out later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re back, thanks for your encouragement and kind words over the hiatus on this story, it helped provide a lot of great motivation to keep me going when I felt stuck. <3
> 
> Updates are going to be a little spaced out with the work I’m doing on teacher!au and other projects, but will hopefully be about one every week or two. I’ve already got most of the next chapter drafted, so hopefully it’ll be on its way before too long.
> 
> (Also I’ve recently realized how to make the little é on my English keyboard, so I’ll be trying to  write Héctor’s name correctly in everything I do from this point on.)
> 
> \- Wit


	11. Performing Face

“Ernesto, stop being so stiff,” Ceci pulled on his arm, “I feel like I’m walking with a mannequin.”

“I’m not the stiff one.” Ernesto traded his lit candle to his other hand as they walked down the moonlit road. He chanced a quick look over his shoulder. Their stern-faced shadow was still close behind, carrying a candle of her own. “Couldn’t you have asked your primo to be our chaperone again instead of Sophia? He was nice.”

“It’s not too late,” Ceci said innocently, “we could still turn back and get Sophia’s mother-in-law?”

“Ay, no gracias.” Ernesto grimaced.

“What was that?” Sophia asked, walking up beside them to join in the conversation.

“I was saying that I can feel your breath on the back of my neck.” Ceci said, rolling her eyes at her older sister. “We’re going to Posadas, not into the woods alone.”

“Well, until you can chaperone yourself you’d better get used to it, hermana.” Sophie said dryly.

Everything Ernesto had seen of Ceci’s family over the last two weeks had been amazing. No one ever screamed or threatened each other, the children running around the hacienda were all well taken care of and energetic. It seemed like everyone genuinely cared for each other. They all kept an eye on him whenever he was over, but Ernesto didn’t mind nearly as much as Ceci seemed to, he was used to putting on a good performance.

“Thank you again for chaperoning us,” Ernesto said with his most Ernesto smile. “It really is very generous of you.”

“Here’s hoping that some of your politeness rubs off on my sister.” Sophia said.

Ceci stuck out her tongue, getting a playful shove in return from Sophia.

“Don’t get wax on my dress!” Ceci yelped with a laugh, letting go of Ernesto’s arm to frantically check her skirts, “I just finished stitching the hem, I don’t want the whole thing ruined before we even get to the Ramirez’s!”

“You could just tell them it’s the fashion in New York.” Sophia said with a trace of a smile.

“It’s not funny,” Ceci said, “This fabric is expensive.”

“I’d buy you more.” Ernesto said with a chuckle, taking Ceci’s candle-free hand in his. “No woman of mine is going to wear stained dresses.”

“Well, I’m glad  _someone_  in my life has good priorities.” Ceci said, lacing her fingers through Ernesto’s and kissing him on the cheek.

Sophia rolled her eyes with a smile as they continued to walk. Soon they joined up with the much larger group of people with Posada candles that came onto the main road as they all made their way through town. At the front of the group was Joseph leading Mary on a donkey, or rather, Senor Lopez dressed in a long robe leading the family donkey that his wife was riding.

“Ernesto!”

Someone walking beside him in the growing group of Posadas revelers slapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly as they joined the crowd, “Who’s this beautiful senorita you’ve got on your arm?”

“May I introduce you to Senorita Cecilia Luciana Rodriguez, the most clever seamstress you’ve ever met.” Ernesto said with proud smile, pulling Ceci forward a bit so the others could see her.

“It’s true,” a woman nodded, “she mended my daughter’s blouse last week and I’ve never seen a tighter stitch.”

“Muchas gracias, I’m glad the blouse turned out well.” Ceci said.

Ernesto was about to jump in on her behalf, that blouse had been horribly ripped and Ceci deserved far more credit for the job she had done, but their candle-bearing crowd was approaching the Ramirez house. Tonight’s hosts for Posadas.

As the crowd approached the closed doors of hacienda Ramirez they began singing.

_“En el nombre del cielo_

_os pido posada,_

_pues no puede andar_

_mi esposa amada”_

Ernesto could barely keep himself from rolling his eyes at the ragtag lack of singing talent around him. The song was a small tune for the holiday celebration, requesting entrance at a now long gone Jerusalem inn for Mother Mary and the unborn Christ child.

He’d always had the opinion that the singing of such a meaningful song should be from people who could actually sing, like himself and Héctor. The beating he’d gotten as a child when he’d mentioned the idea to his father had dissuaded him from mentioning it ever again though.

Sure enough, the Ramirez family was soon singing back in a tolerable, if distinctly out of rhythm, style.

_“Aquí no es mesón_  
sigan adelante,  
yo no puedo abrir,  
no sea algún tunante.”

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Ceci whispered.

“Just trying to focus on the song.” Ernesto whispered back.

She always took more stock in these kinds of things than he did. He suspected now was not the time to share his artistic critique.

“No seas inhumano,  
tenos caridad,  
que el Dios de los cielos  
te lo premiará.”

As the two groups sang the verses back and forth Ernesto let his voice carry just loud enough to lead the crowd’s verses without being obnoxiously overwhelming. Soon enough the singing was over and they were allowed inside the Ramirez’s home. Only a bit more of the traditional singing and praying left before they could get to the fiesta.

“You really do have such a beautiful singing voice, Señor De la Cruz.” A woman in the crowd said as they finally walked through the gates.

“Gracias.” Ernesto said with a smile, the satisfaction of the complement doubled at the use of his preferred name.

“It’s because he’s famous you know.” someone else said, “He and Señor Rivera have traveled all across Mexico playing their music.”

“It’s a talent we’re glad to share with the world.” Ernesto said, his familiar crowd-pleasing smile coming back to him easily, despite having rarely used it for weeks now.  

“Say, would you two be able to play at my wife’s fiesta next week?” another man asked, “I’ve been meaning to find musicians to play for it.”

“I’m sure we can arrange something.” Ernesto said, acting casual despite knowing very well that he was starting to run low on money and would certainly be glad to take the job.

It had been too long since he’d been serious about getting musical work. Instead he had been spending most of his time with Ceci or helping Héctor with odd jobs around town and the shoe shop. He hadn’t played at the plaza in weeks, hadn’t really been to a proper social gathering in weeks.

Now that he thought about it, it probably wasn’t a good sign that he and Héctor hadn’t been asked to play tonight. Not that Héctor would have been able to, Imelda had come down with a nasty cold earlier that day, keeping their family from joining them for Posadas.  

“Don’t forget we promised to bring Coco something.” Ceci said.

“I won’t forget.” Ernesto said absently, already scanning the crowd, planning who he could talk to that evening to leverage some business out of them.

Soon enough the traditional parts of the celebration were finally over and the real celebration began in the courtyard.

Ernesto had nearly forgotten what it was like to be the life of the party and he’d missed it.

Every time he successfully remembered someone’s name, every time someone was drug through to crowd to meet him, every time one of his stories drew a rapt audience (many of them having never left Santa Cecilia) it all filled him with an addictive buzzing energy.

By the time someone struck up a song and everyone started clearing the courtyard for dancing, Ernesto felt back on top. He’d already smoozed his way into three different future performing jobs, had been told dreamily how amazing he was to have traveled so much, and had been complimented on his choice of woman more times than he could count.

Ernesto drank the last of his ponche, scanning the festive crowd for Ceci. He couldn’t remember when exactly she’d disappeared, but it must have been a while ago. He didn’t remember seeing her when he’d been telling his heroic story of when he’d saved Héctor from absently stepping in front of a train.

He set his cup down, frowning as he continued to look.

“Ernesto!” Senor Lopez called, “Where’s your girl? The dance is about to start and we want you two as the lead couple.”

“Uno momento, por favor.” Ernesto called back.

He relaxed as he finally spotted Ceci through the crowd, sitting off by herself at the edge of the compound for some reason.

Ernesto descended into the crowd, dodged nimbly through the dancers lining up to reach Ceci on the far side of the compound. She looked up as he approached, smiling up at him from her seat against the courtyard wall.

“Senorita, would you join me for this dance?” He asked, bowing and offering his hand.

“No thank you,” Ceci said sweetly. “I’m really not much for dancing.”

Ernesto blinked, feeling a little like he’d just been slapped.

“They’re about to start,” he said, still smiling, “they’ve asked us to be the lead couple.”

“Lo siento, I’d really prefer not to.” Ceci said with a good-natured grimace, “I don’t like dancing in front of people, especially people I don’t know very well.”

Ah ha, a reluctant performer. Well, if there was one thing Ernesto had learned from years of traveling with Héctor, it was how to get someone onstage when they “didn’t feel like it.”

“What?” Ernesto said, keeping his voice playfully light, “You’re going to rob everyone here of the chance to see the most beautiful woman in Mexico dance? I promise I’m not that bad of a dance partner.” His dancing was actually the best in town, but he needed to flatter Ceci, not himself.

“Ernesto, I really don’t like dancing in front of people.” Ceci crossed her legs and settled back further into her chair. “You can dance with someone else if you want, I promise I don’t mind.”

Ernesto didn’t exactly feel angry. It was more of the stiff, stubborn feeling he always got when he had to make Héctor do what he needed.

“Ceci, please,” Ernesto said, his voice no longer playful, “they’re expecting us, you have to dance at least once.”

“No, I don’t.” Ceci raised her eyebrows, looking both amused and unimpressed. “You aren’t budging me on this one.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ernesto frowned. Héctor had never put his foot down like this before, Ceci wasn’t leaving him the least bit of room to even try convincing her. “What will people think if they see me dancing with someone else?”

“They’ll think that I don’t like dancing.” Ceci stood and calmly brushed off her skirts, “Come find me when you’ve got your genuine self back, you have your performing face on right now.”

She rocked up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek, then turned and walked away towards the refreshments.

Ernesto watched her go, utterly speechless.

He straightened, pulling his hat forward as something hot and unpleasant rose inside him. She couldn’t just, just turn him down like that, he had a reputation to keep up. He hadn’t asked anything unreasonable, she was just being nervous, she would be glad later that he’d convinced her to dance. Ernesto nodded to himself and squared his shoulders, starting after Ceci.

Now that he thought about it, it as little wonder that his Héctor tricks hadn’t worked on her, Ceci was a completely different person. Ernesto just had to find out what would get Ceci to do what he wanted, what would make her bend. It was just like his father had always said, everyone has their weaknesses if you can just figure out where to-  

Ernesto stumbled sideways into a table, physically blindsided by the eviscerating twist in his gut as he realized what he’d been thinking.  

No.

_No._

Something sour kicked up his throat and he began to cough, moving away from the table he’d nearly knocked over. Too-loud music began to play behind him. He spotted a side gate leading out of the compound and ducked out through it into a back alley.

The cold, shadowed silence of the empty alleyway encased him as he continued to cough, leaning back against the stucco wall. The muted music drifting high over the wall floated right past him.

Was that really it? Was that the reasoning he’d really been using on Héctor all this time? Was that the reasoning that he was using on Ceci? He’d been doing so well at forgetting his father ever existed, scrubbing every trace of him out of his mind. He hadn’t thought about him in a whole week.  

Ernesto pressed his palms to his eyes, grimacing. This was the same kind of anger that he had felt towards Héctor during their tour, this anger that had him acting like his father when he had to get others to do what he wanted.

He’d known he was ignoring this same kind of anger that he’d felt on tour with Héctor and that there was something ugly in it, but he’d been trying to chalk it up to travel fatigue, not this.

But it was fine. It was all fine. This didn’t mean anything, he’d just…just slipped was all.

Ernesto clenched his fists until his fingernails dug into his palms, waiting for the awful feeling in his stomach to pass.

All those times he’d gotten that stiff feeling before, was that how his father had felt when he’d thrown out his own son for refusing to obey him?

Maybe Ernesto was overreacting. He hadn’t done anything, hadn’t even thought of doing anything to Ceci. He’d have backed down if she’d refused him again, he would have let it go, absolutely would have. And Héctor? Ernesto had felt that stiff feeling more times towards Héctor than he could count, but he’d never…

Well.  

Héctor had forgiven him for that one time.

He’d expressly forgiven Ernesto for that.

They’d both been tipsy when they’d started arguing over Héctor’s plans to propose to Imelda, and the verbal argument had turned to shoving when Ernesto’s frustration had become too much.

Ernesto had been horrified, and had immediately agreed to pay for the golden crown on Héctor’s shattered tooth. They’d laughed it off together over tequila they next day, but it was still something Ernesto hated to think about.

And it had been because Héctor had refused to do what Ernesto wanted.

But that was years ago.

But what about the same twisting frustration that had been building up in Ernesto during their last tour? Anger that Héctor wouldn’t play his new songs, that Héctor wanted to go home, that Héctor wasn’t performing with his heart anymore and it was starting to affect their performances. The whole last month was a hazy frustrated memory of shouting matches and passive aggressive pleading.

How much farther might it have escalated if they’d stayed on the road instead of coming back for the funeral?

“Ernesto?”

He jumped, for a moment panicked that someone had heard his thoughts.

“What are you doing back here?” Ceci asked, closing the side gate behind her as she joined him in the ally. “Are you alright? You look sick.”

“I’m fine.” Ernesto said, pulling himself together as quickly as he could, taking an unconscious step back as she approached.

She was so beautiful in the low light of the ally.

“You’re not fine if you’re hiding, what’s wrong?” Ceci said, looking worried as she took his hand, “I didn’t realize the dance meant that much to you. Really Nesto, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Ernesto said, trying to smile as he covered her hands with his to keep them warm in the chill night air. “I just needed some air. And I apologize for becoming flustered before, that was very tasteless of me.”

He hadn’t done anything. He could still move on like it had never happened as long as he didn’t look back.

“Well, I imagine it’s been a while since you’d had someone beautiful around to turn you down.” Ceci teased, stepping on the toes of his boots.

“We should probably get back inside before Sophia notices we’re gone.” Ernesto said, his smile softening as he relaxed a little despite himself, putting his arms around her waist.

Maybe forgetting all about it was the best thing he could do. He could move on like it had never happened, cover it over.

“Sophia’s busy.” Ceci said, leaning up against him,“But if you like, I don’t mind dancing with you alone.”

“Here?” Ernesto looked around the empty back alley. Nothing but moonlight was there to keep them company, and the music from the party drifting over the compound wall.

“I’ve never liked performing in front of people, it always makes me anxious.” Ceci said, her smile fading a little. “It always makes me feel sick, ever since I was a little girl. I nearly threw up at my own quinceanera when I had to dance in front of everyone, I’ve always been like that.”

“I understand.” Ernesto lied, trying to wrap his brain around what she had just said.

He’d been eager to get up in front of a crowd ever since he could remember, dragging Héctor up onto wooden crates in the market square to sing, or hanging around the edge of the town plaza to play guitar for passersby. The thought of being anxious in front of a crowd, of becoming genuinely ill at the thought of performing, had never occurred to him.  

Héctor had been reluctant to perform on their tour, something else Ernesto hadn’t understood, but he’d always been able to force him anyway.

After all, the show must go on. Right?

“You said that I had my ‘performing face’ on.” Ernesto said, “What did you mean by that?”  

“It’s that thing you do when you’re around too many people.” Ceci said, putting a hand on his arm and taking his hand with the other. “You put on a different face, you turn into a different person for a while. You don’t think about anyone else until you come back to yourself.”

“I, well, is that a bad thing?” Ernesto asked, walking them through the steps of a dance as the fiesta music drifted over the wall towards them.

“Only if you let it be, I think.” Ceci said, shrugging.

Ernesto didn’t know what that actually meant, but it felt like he was supposed to, so he didn’t ask.

They danced together in silence for a few minutes, the dancing becoming much closer than a chaperone would have permitted. Soon they were not so much dancing as much as swaying back and forth as Ceci leaned up against him.

But Ernesto could barely focus, his mind far too busy trying to untangle what she’d said.

Ceci had said he became a different person, and he was pretty sure he knew exactly who that person was.

And if he became his father whenever he performed, Ernesto was no longer sure about a lot of things in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @scribblrhob who motivated me back into actually finishing this story. <3
> 
> According to my outline there are three more chapters left in this story, thanks for reading!


	12. Finale/Wrap Up

****So this is a story that I really enjoyed when I started, it was the second Coco fic I ever started writing, but as I got into other projects I ended up losing the fire I once had for it, especially as my understanding of the characters continued to grow and evolve. It got overwhelmed by the other projects I had, like teacher and villain au, and I wasn’t sure I was ever going to go back and finish this story.

I know there’s a lot of readers that enjoyed it though, like the lovely [@scribblrhob](https://tmblr.co/mMPXt4jTIxS23jIeiiWuh-Q) who jumpstarted me back into writing another chapter for it, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll never properly finish it in fleshed out prose form. Such is the way of writing and projects in general, a lot of them go unfinished and that’s just how creativity works.

BUT

I hate leaving things unfinished, especially since I actually know how this story ends, I’ve just run out of desire to write it out in full since it aged out of my interest too quickly. 

So, for everyone who was hoping to have the end of this story, here you are. I’ve pulled together the end of Cecilia de Verde just for you so you aren’t left hanging, it’s not in full prose, but it’s all here. Not every story started is finished, (especially in fanfiction) but I wanted you all to still have the closure you were looking for.

Cheers,

\- Wit

 

 

**Part 8 - The Other Shoe Drops**

It’s a week or two since the last chapter and time has flown by in a beautiful dream. Ernesto and Ceci have spent some mornings playing in the plaza, sometimes walking through the trees in the hills outside town to talk, afternoons spent at her family’s shop, evenings spent with the Riveras or her watching him perform across town. And many more stolen moments together like the one behind the fruit stand at the plaza.

This afternoon they are walking together with her nephew to Ernesto’s house and he invites her in (she loves his mama) but she says he has work to do that evening but she’ll see him later. They kiss and he feels like she’s being torn away as she heads down the street, leaning against the wall of his family’s compound and watching her walk off until she disappears, looking back and rolling her eyes as she waves, then turns the corner.

He stands there, leaning against the wall, savoring the sweet, warm feeling inside him. He realizes that he wants her to be part of his life forever, that he doesn’t want to let her go.

He starts thinking about how he could provide for a family, just with his music? No, he’d have to find something else at least on the side if he had a wife to support, and even at some point children. The thought of children throws him for a loop. And yet it was so easy to imagine them together, in this house, with their own family. But would he really want to have a family in this house? There was no where else he would go, but for some reason the thought makes him uneasy.

His mother comes to the door and sees him, says she remembers his father looking like that when they were courting. She sighs, not seeing how disturbing that is to him. He would never allow his father to come anywhere near Ceci.

His mama tells him he has a visitor and to hurry up and come in. He wonders what’s up and sees a polished looking man sitting in the courtyard. He stands to greet Ernesto and gives him his card, and Ernesto recognizes the name of an important music company and is immediately self-conscious about his own clothes since he’s toned it down in the last few weeks, having been more worried about other things with Ceci recently.

The man says he’s a talent scout and has heard great things about Ernesto and Hector, that it’s taken quite a while to track him down after they vanished, but that he heard them in Mexico city a while back and was going to approach them but then they disappeared overnight. But he hasn’t been able to get them out of his head. He wants to know if he and Hector would be interested in potentially getting a record deal/performing gig.   

Ernesto is shocked, he hadn’t realized he’d been slowly closing a door inside him until it slammed open again, the thought of making it big in the music world, of playing for the world. He tumbles over himself for a moment, summoning back the old Ernesto. He explains that his partner has settled down with a family and wouldn’t be interested in traveling again. The man says that’s too bad, but that Ernesto is the one with the face for show business anyway and asks if he has a family. Ernesto hesitates, thinking of Ceci, but says no.

The scout says that if he had to choose between the two he’d choose Ernesto anyway and asks him to refresh his memory, to play him something so he can see how good he is alone. Ernesto says of course and pulls out his guitar, whipping out a couple of their tried and true songs. The man is smiling and nodding, saying this just might work, but then asks him if he has anything new he could play.

Ernesto hesitates, but then pulls out the Cecilia de Verde song he wrote for Ceci, pouring himself into the song, thinking of her. But he feels a little odd after he’s done, like he’s given away something precious since Ceci wasn’t there to hear it. Is that how Hector had felt everytime Ernesto had convinced him to let them play his new songs? He’d never gotten him to let go of the sweet little tune he sang only for Coco. He now understands.

The scout applauds when its over, telling him it was beautiful, that he is sure he could get Ernesto a record deal if he wants to come to Mexico city with him. Ernesto’s mother is excited, saying it’s what he always dreamed of. Ernesto feels like he’s being torn down the middle even though he knows he should be overjoyed. He asks the scout if he can think it over, that it’s a really big decision and that, uh, he’d like to run it past Hector. The scout says of course, but to hurry since he won’t be in town long.

The mom sees the scout to the door and then comes back, asking Ernesto what he’s waiting for, that he’s always wanted to play for the world. He asks what about Ceci. She tears up and tells him that she had her dreams dashed once she was married and that she doesn’t want him to miss seizing this moment. He says he’ll have to think about it, he leaves for Hector’s, completely in a daze, not a happy one.

**Part 9 - Insecure**

Ernesto starts walking to Hector’s house, thinking along the way. He wants to be with Ceci, but, well, what would he support her with? He’s nearly out of money. Would she even say yes if he asked? And if she did say yes? He might be just like his father. A chill runs down his spine.

He gets to Hector’s and find him in the shop. He tells Hector about the scout and Hector is shocked, but then flatly refuses, saying he won’t leave his family again. Ernesto assures him that’s what he said to the scout and Hector is surprised and touched by the non-forcing gesture. Hector asks him what the scout said to him, why he looks so worried, and apologizes since he assumes not being a package deal ruined things for Ernesto.

Ernesto says no, that he was offered a spot alone. Hector is shocked, slowly congratulates him? He’s unsure, obviously something is wrong. He hesitantly asks about Ceci. Ernesto reaches the end of his rope in his head and the building emotion inside him starts tumbling out, all his insecurities come out directed at Hector, asking him how he could corner him into a relationship with Ceci.

“Amigo,” Hector said gently, “I would never make you do something you didn’t want to do. Imelda and I have just been encouraging you to have a little fun, to loosen up and enjoy life with someone. If it’s giving you pain I apologize from the bottom of my heart.”

But Ernesto re-realizes in that moment that he’s forced Hector to do things he didn’t want to do in the past, things that had even strained his relationship with his family, which is another dangerous thing about himself. “I can’t be a father Hector!” he bursts out, “My father was a piece of trash, if I turn out to be like him it’ll be a hell on earth for anyone in my house! I can’t do that to Ceci, I would never let anything happen to her. She deserves the stars and the moon and everything under it, she doesn’t deserve someone like me.”

“You are not your father Ernesto.” Hector said. His rare serious side showing through as he set his guitar aside. “You are already better than him. Could you be like him? Of course, if you choose to. I cannot tell you what path to take hermano, but your father’s ghost isn’t going to push you down any path unless you choose to go down it.”

Ceci arrives and walks in, says Ernesto’s mother told her that he was here. They both look at her and Hector scoops up his hat and looks at Ernesto meaningfully as he walks out. A kind of “choose carefully” look.

**Part 10–The Real Thing**

Seeing Ceci undoes the tight places inside Ernesto, but then he remembers it all again, and it cuts at him deeper than anything ever has. He explains to her about the scout, about the choice he needs to make, and haltingly explains his fears about how they wouldn’t work out together, that he doesn’t want to trap her in a marriage that he’s scared he’ll ruin.

Ceci tells him that she loves the genuine him, it’s only the fake mask he puts on that he should be afraid of. The real Ernesto is kind to children and animals, it’s his rabid attachment to fame in order to prove his father wrong that would destroy him.

“But music is a part of me, I can’t leave it behind.”

“Yes Ernesto, you love the music, and I love you for it, that is genuine, but the part of you that so desperately wants to be loved by crowds of strangers, that is not the real you, that is fear. That is what I am afraid will destroy you inside is you go chasing after it.”

He thinks back to how he was on tour, how he could feel the emptiness inside him growing, edging him closer to some ledge that would tip him into a free fall to try and fill it. How insistent, how pushy, how greedy had he become? How far would he have gone? What would he have done? Would he have hurt someone he loved in order to get what wanted?

“I love you Ernesto.” she said, stopping his heart as she stood. “But you need to decide between these two parts of you, come and find me when you do.”

She bends down and softly kisses his forehead. He reflexively reaches for her hand as she turned and left, but too late. With a swish of white skirts and a glimpse of green hair ribbon she’s gone.

Ernesto stares at the empty doorway for a long moment. Outside crickets chirp, heedless of the battle inside of him.

He stands, then walks to the doorway.

He needs to talk to his father.

**Part 11 - Choice**

Ernesto is at the Santa Cecilia graveyard, at the still-new grave of his father that he hasn’t seen since the funeral three months ago. He talks out his thoughts to his father, telling him that he is never going to be like him, that he was awful and is no longer a part of his life. That he is choosing now to avoid anything that would make him more like him.

He says that he thought that being famous would show him, but no Ernesto thinks that it is by being happy that he’ll do it instead. He’s going to use love to erase the memory of the darkness that his father brought to their home. He’s going to choose to be different.

He makes peace with his father, telling him he’s never going to be like him, he’s going to be married to the love of his life and make sure she feels valued every day of her life.

He walks away from the grave, leaving a single candle flickering on the grey stone.

**The End:**

He goes to find Ceci at her house, she turns and he sees fear in her eyes and he promises himself that it’s the last time she’ll ever feel fear because of him. He drops down to one knee and stutters out something about how he’ll do his best, that he’ll start making shoes with the Riveras if he has to to keep them in a home that he can fill with music.

She’s crying and scrubbing tears away with the palm of her hand, he starts to stand and she throws herself into his arms. For the first time Ernesto feels like he is standing on something really solid, that maybe this is a foundation that they can build the rest of their lives on together.

**Epilogue:**

He and Ceci are married and they devote themselves to Ceci’s career as a seamstress, Ernesto turns his schmoozing/performing/networking skills to market his wife’s designs across the country, pulling them into the fashion industry. After many years of hard work the Ceci brand is internationally recognized as they push themselves to work harder and perform their best.

Ernesto runs the business and PR side quite happily while Ceci grows and works to be even better than she was yesterday over and over and over. They end up coming into quite a bit of money with their combined talents and have the nicest home in Santa Cecilia (which Ceci wanted), as well as one in Mexico City (which Ernesto wanted.)

They remain very very good friends with the Riveras and their children are best friends growing up. Hector and Imelda go on to have the twins (Matty and Leti, OCs belonging to @whattimeisitintokyo), Victor (known as Teto in the villain!au), and Rodrigo. Ernesto and Ceci have three daughters, Lucinda, Jasmine, and Valentina.

Victor and Jasmine especially grow up to be best friends, only Victor being oblivious to their parent’s un-subtle hopes that they’ll eventually get married. Victor is always more focused on his projects than thinking about his relationship with Jasmine, until one day Hector asks him about the fact that he and Jasmine are very close. Victor suddenly realizes that “just best friends” probably don’t kiss each other and spend every second of the day with each other. Victor asks Jasmine if they’re courting to which she basically responds “have been for two years now, but thanks for noticing.” They are married soon after and go on being best friends, delighting their parents. Two of their great-grandchildren born many years later are named Jazmin and Marco, who are distant primos of Miguel’s.

Ernesto is a great terrible papa. He spoils his daughters shamelessly but loves them very much, even though he leaves most of the actual parenting to Ceci. (After all, the mothering of daughters is up to the mother, right?) He was always terrified of having a son, but after Valentina was born and they decided they were done he was relieved. He’s able to be a [good tio to Hector’s boys](https://im-fairly-whitty.tumblr.com/post/174986957884/no-murder-hector-au-do-the-kids-like-uncle), since there’s a separation there, but he was always afraid his father’s bad habits would bleed through if he had to raise boys of his own.    

Ernesto and Ceci are a happy team as they grow old together, taking joy in their career success and daughters. Ceci dies a few years before Imelda and Hector do, at the age of seventy. Five years later Imelda and Hector die within a month of each other. Ernesto is the last one standing for two years longer than the others before passing away at eighty, secretly smug at having outlived the others.

When they all reconnect in the Land of the Dead there’s much teasing and joking and settling in to enjoy the afterlife together now that they’re all together again. All in all, it’s a very happy ending, with wonderful family legacies left behind for their descendants to enjoy.


End file.
